The Victor Memoirs
by TheEngineeringGames
Summary: Years of Hunger Games have come and gone, each giving us a new victor to celebrate. Every victor has their own history, the story of their time in the Hunger Games. These are the stories of the victors. These are the Victor Memoirs.
1. The 76th Hunger Games: Anastasia Kristos

**Chapter 1:**

_Anastasia Kristos, District One, Age 15 _

_Victor of the 76__th__ Hunger Games_

Nothing could have ever prepared Anastasia for the terror of being sent into the Hunger Games. She thought she had seen enough horror for a lifetime from the Second Rebellion. She saw the nation rise up against the Capitol, not caring who got caught in the crossfire as they tried to bring down President Snow. They didn't care what innocent families got torn apart in their mission. They didn't care that Anastasia had to hold her twin sister as they hid under the bed, keeping her hand over Natalia's mouth to keep her from crying out as the rebels came into their house, determined to bring District One down. The District was too loyal, too dedicated to the Hunger Games. The rebels didn't think the mayor would change her mind about what side to be on.

They didn't give her mother the chance to give an answer before they shot her.

Anastasia thought losing her mother would have been the worst horror she faced. But then they kidnapped her and Natalia, held them prisoner, and made them watch as the victors they had grown up alongside with were murdered. Victors who were family to them – her godparents were victors.

But none of that compared to the absolute horror of being placed in the ruins of District Twelve.

The images Anastasia had seen of the destroyed District had seemed…not real, in a way. It was so isolated from her normal life that she could pretend that the District hadn't been destroyed. She didn't personally know anyone from Twelve, why should it affect her? But once she rose up into the center of town in Twelve, she could no longer pretend that an entire District hadn't been wiped out of existence. Not when she was surrounded by the remains of hundreds, if not thousands, of people.

She has lost too much already to give up, even if she wants to. She is tired of constantly fighting for her survival. All she wanted was to try and put together the shattered pieces of their life with Natalia. She wanted to figure out how they were going to get past the trauma of the war and the loss of their mother. But now if she makes it out of here, she'll be living with the memory of being surrounded by the skeletons of an entire District that was destroyed, all because one person from their District defied the Capitol. If she lives, she will never be able to erase the sight of tiny skeletons being held by larger ones. She'll never be able to erase the sound of crunching bones as she ran away from everyone. Why would she even want to live with the memory of this?

There's only one reason: Natalia.

She can't abandon her sister…they're all each other has.

"Okay Anastasia, wipe off those tears," Anastasia whispers to herself, trying to stop the tears pouring down her cheeks as she finds the broken structure of a building to hide in. Yet when she's all alone in a giant graveyard, it's hard to stop herself from breaking down. She's all alone…for the first time ever, she's truly alone. Even when they were taken prisoner, she still had Natalia by her side. But now, all she has are the ghosts of the past.

Anastasia tenses up when she hears a whimpering nearby and immediately clutches the knife she was given, holding it out in front of her. She knows she doesn't have it in her to actually kill someone – how can she do that to a family when people did that to hers? Yet she has to defend herself from whoever is out there. "Show yourself," Anastasia calls out with as much strength as she can muster and she hopes the person can't hear the wavering of fear in her voice.

The whimpering stops and turns into a squeak of fear as a small face peers out from behind stacked bricks that must have been a chimney before. Raised hands soon follow, showing Anastasia that the tiny girl has no intention of hurting her. "P-please don't kill me…" Livia says quietly, sounding resigned as she steps out fully into Anastasia's sight. "I…I know you're supposed to but…" The tiny girl starts shaking her head and she tries to hold in a sob, but it soon slips out. She wraps her arms around herself and Anastasia finds herself lowering her knife. "I didn't do anything in the rebellion…I'm only _twelve_. My aunt, she…"

"I'm not going to kill you," Anastasia whispers to her, starting to crawl over towards the young girl before even realizing what she's doing. But something about her just…takes her back to when she was protecting Natalia. Livia watches her cautiously, but stays still, aware that Anastasia does have a knife and could still hurt her.

"Why not? I'm related to a _rebel_, did you forget that?" Livia asks her bitterly. "A well-known rebel in Two."

"And I'm related to the former mayor of One," Anastasia tells her in return. "We're not defined by who we're related to…"

"Tell that to the Capitol," Livia says under her breath, turning away from Anastasia. She stares out of the building for a few long seconds in silence. When she continues, she still stares away from Anastasia. "You should just go ahead and kill me now. Be the good citizen the Capitol expects you to be."

"No," Anastasia says, knowing how dangerous that one word could be, but she doesn't care. She's not killing this innocent kid out of cold blood. "I don't care, I'm not killing you because you had an aunt that rebelled. _You_ didn't rebel and that's what matters. So come on," Anastasia holds out her hand to Livia and the girl stares at it for a few long seconds in silence. "I'm not leaving you here. We're working together from now on."

Livia still stares at her outstretched hand for long seconds, until finally reaching out and slowly taking it. "Okay," she says quietly as Anastasia shakes her hand.

"A loyalist and rebel, working together," Anastasia says with a smile. "Bet they didn't expect this to happen."

* * *

**Welcome to a side project of mine, one that's been in progress for a while now. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love my victors, so I want to take the time and acknowledge each one by taking a look at each of their Games. I give you...The Victor Memoirs. **

**I have no clue how often this story will be updated. It's mostly for myself to have fun and explore the victors, but I hope if you like my victors you'll enjoy this as well!**

**I give you: Anastacia Kristos, Victor of the 76th Hunger Games. Yeah I just spoiled Hysteria. I did that XD (I mean, it was already mentioned in Wayward but oh well lol). Anyone that is reading Hysteria knows the victor of those Games isn't the focus.**

**Also this story is part of my sponsor point system so yay more points! XD**

**So yeah, no idea when the next update of this will be because the early victors are the ones I know the least about, but it gives me the chance to develop them! **


	2. The 77th Hunger Games: Ceti Alala

**Chapter 2:**

_Ceti Alala, District Ten, Age 17_

_Victor of the 77__th__ Hunger Games_

Everyone keeps asking him if he regrets what he did and Ceti is tired of telling them the same thing. He didn't regret it when he stepped forward and volunteered for Kumar. He knew his boyfriend's odds versus his own – Kumar's family was rebels, Ceti's are loyalists. Kumar is still in school while Ceti spends his days hauling meat around the butcher shop. Kumar is too sweet to ever want to hurt someone in the Games, not even out of self-defense, but Ceti didn't hesitate when it was him or them. No, he didn't regret volunteering for Kumar. He knew his boyfriend would never have been allowed to win the Games, even if he did actually defend himself. Didn't matter if it was his parents and not him that was the rebel – the year before proved that the country isn't quite ready yet to have a rebel win the Games.

But Ceti wasn't a rebel. He knew when he stepped forward that they would give him a fair chance to win. And even if he didn't win, at least he would die with the knowledge that he saved the love of his life from almost certain death. But he didn't die. It was alarmingly easy for him to separate the idea in his head that he was fighting other kids when someone was running at him with a knife. So easy to not blink an eye at the blood that he's seen day after day at the butchers. That was what people always ask him the most if he regrets – killing those four tributes. He always gave the same answer to them.

He hasn't regretted it one bit. He knew what had to be done and he did it. And from the moment he first volunteered to now, he would still step forward and do it all over again. Because he'll be going back home to the boy he loves, alive and safe, all because Ceti risked his own life to save him. Ceti is counting down the minutes until they get back to Ten and he steps off the train and finds Kumar waiting for him. He's going to pick him up and swing him around and never let go of him again now that his is safe, knowing they are going to have the rest of their lives together.

Why would Ceti ever regret that?

As he stands at the window of the train, watching the scenery shift to the pastures of Ten, a lazy grin forms. So close. He's so close to being back home to the one he loves.

Yet Cantus has been hovering near him for the past half hour and Ceti knows something is up. The man has done his best to keep Ceti from knowing something is wrong but he hasn't done a good enough job. "Cantus, what's up?" Ceti finally asks, looking back at his mentor and grinning a bit. "It's weird, the hovering."

"I…" Cantus hesitates as he sighs and gestures for the seat across from him. "There's something you should know before we get back to Ten… Something I really don't want to tell you, but it's better you know now and not when you get there."

"Oh-kay," Ceti says slowly as he sits opposite Cantus. He watches the escort adjust his tie covered in piano keys for a few seconds, before sighing and putting his hands in his lap. He starts tapping out a beat as he avoids looking at Ceti. "You're making me nervous."

"Well I _am_ nervous," Cantus answers with a nervous chuckle, proving his point. He finally meets Ceti's gaze and starts frowning. "Look, I always like to be honest with my girls because I think it's important to talk about things. And…I guess part of me cares for you in a similar way, so I want to be honest with you. And the thing is…they interviewed Kumar while you were in the Games."

"They did?" Ceti asks, raising his eyebrows in surprise. That's the first he has heard of this. "I didn't know they did the final eight interviews."

"They gave it a try this year," Cantus says slowly, once again avoiding Ceti's gaze. "Slowly starting to get back to some of the…normal…Games events. Still not at the full fanfare, of course…"

"Right…no celebration after or recap…" Ceti responds, a bit happy to have skipped all of that. He's never been the best at crowds and people, Kumar was always so much better than him. "Well can I see the interview?" Ceti asks him, smiling a little at the thought of seeing Kumar sooner than he expected, even if it's just through a screen. A pang of longing goes through him, knowing he's so close to seeing him once more and realizing how much he's missed him, mixed in with the excitement of seeing him.

"I…don't know if that's the best idea."

"Then why even bring it up?" Ceti tries to ask politely – he does respect the hell out of Cantus – but even he's growing a little annoyed at him. "Come on, Cantus. I'll know eventually when I see him, so might as well show me now."

"That's the problem," Cantus sighs as he picks up his tablet and takes the time to pull up the video. He hesitates to hand it over to Ceti, holding on to it for a moment. "Just…know I'm here and going to support you through everything."

"I know," Ceti says softly with a smile as he takes the tablet. "You've done so much already."

Cantus gives a forced smile at this before Ceti starts the video, grinning at the sight of Kumar. But the smile quickly fades away as Kumar stays far away from Jovian, seemingly afraid of them. The whole interview, he gives short answers and refuses to make eye contact with the host. Until the final question. _"So what do you think about everything Ceti has done in the arena?"_

Kumar immediately shakes his head and tears form in his eyes. _"I-I don't believe what he's done. He…he _scares_ me. I don't…I don't know that person on the screen. That's not the person I loved."_

Ceti lets the tablet fall out of his hands as Kumar keeps talking about being scared of him. He stares blankly at the screen as it starts to blur until droplets of water start to fall on it. Ceti doesn't realize he's crying until Cantus hands him a handkerchief – music themed, of course – too busy replaying in his head over and over again the love of his life being scared of the things he did. Things he did _for_ Kumar… "I don't understand…"

Cantus puts his hand over Ceti's, trying to provide a bit of comfort. "I've seen it happen before…victors coming home to loved ones that don't realize the things they did were out of survival. That they wouldn't be back home alive if they hadn't done those things."

"Does he not love me?" Ceti whispers, staring hopelessly at his mentor.

Cantus stares at him for a second before pulling him into a close hug. "We don't know that… That was before you won. He could have realized that you did this for him. He's probably waiting for you on the station."

Ceti shakes his head, part of him not believing that, but a different part not believing that Kumar would ever not love him for this. For volunteering to save his _life_. "I don't know…"

"You'll find out soon," Cantus says as he gives him a pat on the shoulder. "And no matter what, I am here for you."

And he's right, he does find out soon. When the train arrives at Ten, Ceti finds himself searching the station, a sinking feeling slowly growing in his stomach as he stares around, Kumar nowhere in sight. "He didn't show…" Ceti says quietly to Cantus, trying his best to hold in his tears as his family approaches. He really didn't show up. He really doesn't love him after he put his life on the line to save him… "Hey Cantus…"

"Yes, Ceti?"

"I think I finally regret this…"

* * *

**Only second victor and we are already getting to the angst lol XD Should have known it wouldn't take me long to get to the angst. So here we have the Victor of the 77th Hunger Games: Ceti Alala! He's a good boy who just tried to keep his love safe and I fully support him. **

**So yeah, got that writing urge to do this so here we are! And again, no idea when inspiration will next strike with this story so no promises on when it will next update. But when we do, we will look at the victor of the 78th Games!**

**Also if you don't already know, the SYOT Alliance Forum is hosting our third annual SYOT Awards! Nominations are just finishing up tonight but voting will be starting December 1st and we would like to have as many people participating as possible, so if you are interested, please check it out :) The link to the forum is on my profile!**


	3. The 78th Hunger Games: Moro Galene

**A/N: Trigger warning for abuse.**

* * *

**Chapter 3:**

_Moro Galene, District Three, Age 18_

_Victor of the 78__th__ Hunger Games_

Moro is out of time.

There's no more time left for him to figure out what the hell he is going to do. No more time to figure a way out of the narrative the Capitol has forced on him from the moment he was reaped. He had no chance to try to show himself as anything other than the son of Commander Galene, war hero of the Second Rebellion. The Capitol would not let him portray himself as anything other than the faithful son of a decorated hero who helped fight the technologically advanced attacks of the former victor from their District. _"Moro is a dedicated loyalist who will fight for the country in the Games!"_ That's what they kept saying about him. And he is loyal to the country…he knows better than to go against the country…or his father.

And yet, that's what he's been trying to figure out how to do since he was reaped.

Moro never wanted to be in the Games. He never wanted to fight in the war or against rebels. He never wanted to be part of the bloodshed that just tears families apart if their loved ones don't come back home, or even if they do make it home, a tattered shell of their former self. Why would Moro ever want that for himself? But that choice was never his to make.

Dumb luck. That's what his mother kept saying about him being reaped as his father paced the room, analyzing everything with the intense focus of a former soldier. It was his father's suggestion to play up the loyalist ties. If he kills the rebels, surely they will support him as victor – but not _too_ much, or he'll end up like that crazy kid from the 76th Games. Moro was terrified to say no to him, but he wishes he had.

Now as he stands on the platform, waiting for the Games to start…he has no more time to think of a way out of killing rebels and doing what the Capitol expects of him. To go against them would mean his certain death. To go with them might not even guarantee his survival. And yet, is it even worth living if doing what he has to do to win destroys everything he stands for and breaks him?

Moro needs to make up his mind, and he needs to do it _now_.

Support the Capitol or stick to his morals? Kill children who had no involvement in the things their parents did – just like him – but were on the wrong side, or get killed for refusing to fight? Stand up for what he believes in or let his father win like always?

Moro knows the answer. It's the same answer as always. His father always has to get his way. If he doesn't, he'll turn to the bottle and turn his anger on all of them. His mother and younger sister are still at home with him, all of them surely watching the TV now to see what Moro will do. If he does something wrong…

With ten seconds left, Moro has his decision made.

_I'm sorry._

When the gong sounds, Moro pushes his hesitation aside as he starts running towards the closest supplies, staring a few spots over at the young boy stumbling off of his pedestal, eyes wide in fear. As Moro's hands wrap around the hilt of a knife, for a fraction of a second, he starts to doubt himself. But as screams start sounding around him, his heart starts racing and he forces his brain to shut down and just act on his instincts. His feet slam down into the ground and he repeats over and over and over in his head, _do what you have to do_.

The poor boy barely has time to look back at him from where he was picking up a bag before Moro slams the knife into his shoulder. He quickly pulls the knife out and steps away as the boy cries out, swinging his uninjured arm towards him. Moro stares at him with wide eyes of shock for a moment, part of him not believing what he has done as the boy collapses to the ground, shaky breaths raking through his chest. Moro glances around at the tributes fighting around the cornucopia, finding the boy's District partner running towards him, looking royally pissed off. Moro takes off away from the cornucopia, dodging the girl's knife and swinging his towards her in return. Yet where hers swung through air, he can feel the impact as he strikes her stomach and she collapses over on herself, clutching her stomach and leaving Moro to keep running away.

Moro doesn't look back as he races away from there, afraid of looking behind him and seeing the carnage of the bloodbath, the death that has occurred.

Death he caused. He killed someone. He killed an innocent boy, all because the Capitol told them he was a bad person and a rebel for what his parents did. Parents who were trying to protect him from the very fate that just befell him. A fate Moro inflicted…

Moro stumbles to a stop as he hunches over, heaving up the little bit of breakfast he forced himself to eat. And even when that is all gone, he keeps retching. "Oh God…" Moro groans as he takes a few stumbling steps forward as the world around him starts to spin. He quickly tucks his head down between his knees, fighting off the nauseous feeling. But there's no escaping it. Not when he did this to himself.

He was just doing what he had to do. He was taking out someone the Capitol labeled as a threat, that's all…because a thirteen year old is really a threat to the entire country. He's doing what he has to do to stay alive. That's it. Survival. How many times has his father drilled into his head lessons about survival and loyalty to country? Moro is simply following instructions.

Because that's all he's ever done. Finally, he is in a place where he can make his own choices and he's too afraid of his father who can't hurt him in this arena. Like always, he's just a mindless pawn, doing exactly what he's been told to do. And he knows he will keep doing exactly what he's been told to do. He's too afraid to go against his father anymore, too afraid to make a stand for himself now that there is blood on his hands and he knows so easily that could be his blood on someone else's hands.

Moro might have made it out of the bloodbath alive, but he knows a part of him has died inside. The small rebellious part of him that has wanted to stand up for himself for once. It was killed as soon as Moro took his first life, leaving him an empty Capitol loyalist.

He knows he's going to be just like his father. And nothing in the Games could possibly scare him more than that.

* * *

**Okay I don't know where this writing kick has come from with this story, but I'm not complaining XD I'm just excited to keep developing my victors and the victors within the first ten years after the rebellion are fun because of how different the Games are compared to the years I write for my SYOTs. **

**So I give you Moro Galene, Victor of the 78th Hunger Games. Moro's a good boy who is just going through some...moro dilemmas XD (thanks Dreamer for that pun lol). He just wanted to stand up for himself, yet he couldn't. Do you think it was worth not standing up for himself knowing he wins?**

**Next chapter I can actually give a good timeline on when that will be up since that POV is already written from previous things! I'll give it a couple days, but it will definitely be up within a week!**


	4. The 79th Hunger Games: Garia Solanum

**Chapter 4:**

_Garia Solanum, District Eleven, Age 17_

_Victor of the 79__th__ Hunger Games_

Garia has already lost too much in her life to lose the games. The rebellion had already torn her family apart… Her mother lost in the chaos of a riot… Her father imprisoned for participating in the riots after his grief over losing his wife drove him crazy… And her younger sister…

No. As much as the loss still feels fresh and causes so much pain in her chest, Garia _cannot_ afford to get distracted right now. Not when distraction could result in her death. And she needs to get home to her remaining family. Uriel can't take care of the twins without her helping out and earning some money in the fields. It's bad enough that they had to stop school at the age of twelve to keep them all from starving. She wasn't going to make them take out tesserae.

Garia comes to a stop as the eerie bell chime that she will never get used to sounds in the arena, indicating that yet another hour has passed. She turns her attention up to the sky, waiting for when the Gamemakers will display the map of the arena for five short seconds, allowing the tributes to see where the remaining tributes are located. It was a sick and twisted way for them to make sure the fighting never stopped and to inspire fear into the tributes. Anything to keep punishing them for the rebellion that Garia wanted to forget about more than anything.

But with the end so close, every appearance of the map matters. She's one of only three tributes left and she is so close to getting out of here. Except when the map appears, the five seconds seem to stretch on forever as she realizes that the Vivian, the girl from District Ten, is very close to her. Way too close for her comfort. She can feel her forehead start to form sweat in fear of the large girl with muscles from years of handling livestock. She's just on the opposite side of the hill Garia had been starting to walk up.

The sky turns back to the bright blue, not a single cloud to block the sun. Garia's heart starts racing as she stares up the hill covered in small sage bushes, contemplating if the girl is going to chase after her. She needs to run, put as much distance between them, yet she can't bring her feet to move. All she can think about is the girl's promise during the interviews.

'_I'm going to kill every last tribute here, especially if they have ties to rebels. Those tributes I'm going to absolutely destroy.'_

But Garia wasn't involved in the rebellion. She had lost two family members to it! Yet the Capitol had no problem telling the world that Garia's father had been arrested during the rebellion. It didn't matter that Garia denounced all relation to him.

Vivian still wants to kill her.

The girl runs up to the top of the hill, stopping at the top to stare down at Garia before grinning maliciously and pointing with her spear. "Finally! You're the last one of the rebel scum!"

Vivian takes a step forward and that's when Garia finally gets her feet to start moving. She races back down the hill, momentum building and her feet sliding on some of the rocks scattering the ground. She doesn't dare look back to see how far away Vivian is but the girl's evil laughter lets Garia know that the distance between them is slowly closing.

Garia searches around as she starts running through the paths between the hills, trying to find something she can use to help her kill Vivian because she refuses to get close to the girl. Getting close will almost guarantee her death and she will _not_ let that happen.

"You're not going to get away from me!" Vivian shouts and something goes flying past Garia's face just as she turns, something that certainly would have hit her if she hadn't turned.

Garia rounds the corner around a sharp face of a hill and immediately throws herself down to the ground as she sees Alexios running towards her, bow notched and ready to shoot. He shoots just as Vivian's laughter comes around the corner, quickly turning into gurgling. Garia glances back to see the older girl collapsing to the ground, blood spilling out of her mouth and arrow sticking out of her chest.

_Boom._

But the boy from Three is still running towards her so she scrambles to grab the spear Vivian's hands still grasp tightly. She rips it free as the loud footsteps get closer and without looking, she thrusts it towards her left. When she feels resistance followed by a gasp of pain, she turns to see Alexios impaled on the end of it, the spear embedded deep in his stomach. Garia lets go of the spear in shock, causing the boy to fall to the ground as he tries to reach out and grab her. He gets ahold of her foot but she kicks him away, falling over and scrambling backwards from him. Finally, he stops moving, his eyes still staring at Garia.

_Boom._

"Ladies and gentlemen, the victor of the 79th Hunger Games: Garia Solanum!"

And with the announcement, Garia starts to cry. She looks up at the hovercraft that just appeared above her and shakily gets to her feet. Somehow, she did it. She's going home.

* * *

**And here we have our fourth chapter introducing Garia Solanum, Victor of the 79th Games! And yeah, if you read Wayward, this might seem familiar because it's just the intro scene that we saw for her there. But hopefully that was long enough ago that this was a nice little refresher on her XD**

**Here we start to see how things are shifting in the Games and in the country towards rebels as more time passes between the Second Rebellion and the current time. But also there's still a large group of loyalists still present. It's been funny exploring this and how the views change with each year! Next year is going to be even different from this year. ****So what are your thoughts on the first victor that was labeled a 'rebel'?**

**Also the SYOT Alliance Forum is currently hosting the third annual SYOT Awards! We are in the voting time and have lots of great nominations, so if you're interested in voting, check out the link on my profile! :)**

**Next update will be in a couple days because I have a few stockpiled and I am down for some quick updates since these are short reads! So I will see you so****on!**


	5. The 80th Hunger Games: Doria Jannes

**Chapter 5:**

_Doria Jannes, District Four, Age 16_

_Victor of the 80__th__ Hunger Games_

Doria thinks it's about time for some damn change in this country.

Of course, that's also what she thought five years ago and that is what got her into this mess. And she still stands by that and the choices she made. She was on the verge of being eligible for the reaping and while Four usually had volunteers, it wasn't guaranteed. And the thought of being reaped terrified her more than anything. So when given the option to try and prevent that from happening, of course she joined in as much as they would let a child help. She didn't think the rebels would fail and the Games would continue, landing her right in them.

Oh, if only her eleven year old self could see her now.

Does she regret standing up to the Capitol and trying to get the Games to stop? Absolutely fucking not. Would she do it again now? Probably, but she would be smarter about not getting caught. But she will never let the Capitol know that. Instead, she's played their little game. She's accepted that she would never make it out of the arena alive if she let them know what she truly thinks about them. So she lied. She lied right to their faces, told them how sorry she is for what she did and any pain and loss she contributed to. She told them how she has changed her way and how as a victor, she would like to help the country continue to regrow after the rebellion. She told them that her rebellious nature was in the past and in the Games, she would show them that. She took out any rebels who didn't do what she did. She only felt a little bit of remorse, knowing that could be her. But she was smarter than them. She knew what had to be done to have the Capitol allow her to live. And she's not going to let herself feel any regret for what she has done to survive.

And the best part? They believed her. They must or else she never would have made it this far, marching back to the cornucopia and ready to face the final tribute. Doria is ready for the change of letting actual rebels – not just children of rebels like Garia last year – win the Games. And it seems like the Capitol might just be thinking the same thing. This finale will be the true test of the Capitol and what Ovidius preaches about how loyalists and rebels can work together to rebuild the country. Doria versus Jayde. Rebel versus loyalist. Both from former career Districts. Doria is going to do everything she can to beat Jayde, but she'll be really pissed if the Capitol plays dirty to let the other girl win – even if she's been playing dirty this whole time.

The shining cornucopia comes into view and Doria takes a moment to pause and stare at it, knowing this is it. This could be where she wins or dies, and it might not even be fully up to her.

Leaning against the cornucopia is her last opponent, picking at her nails. But when Jayde notices her standing there, she quickly straightens up and unsheathes her sword before starting to walk towards her. "About time you got here. I was starting to wonder if they just took you out."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm still here," Doria answers sarcastically as she resumes walking towards the girl. She notches an arrow and puts a bit of tension on the string, ready to fire quickly if she needs to.

"Well, I guess that will just make this finale more interesting then. One and Four, fighting against each other." Jayde shrugs, trying to appear casual, but Doria sees right through her. She's a little scared. "You know, in the past, we might have been allies," Jayde tells her, almost seeming a bit…sentimental. "One and Four, together with Two."

"Too bad Two's tributes sucked this year," Doria answers, getting a brief snicker from Jayde before the girl quickly composes herself and grows serious once more.

"Right," Jayde says, adjusting her grip on the sword she holds awkwardly in her hand. And that's the reason why One and Four haven't allied every year – none of them are really trained anymore, so why ally with someone trying to pretend to still be a career? "What do you say? A fair fight between two sibling Districts? Best tribute wins? That is, of course, if the Capitol actually allows you to win."

"I've shown them I'm loyal to them now. The past is in the past." Doria's grip on her bow relaxes just a bit at that statement, a bitter reminder that she could have tried so hard up until this point, yet have the Capitol decide to just kill her. And she would rather know that now. "Well I'm waiting," Doria yells up at the sky. They wait in silence for a long minute…yet nothing happens to Doria. She still stands there, ready to face Jayde…still standing.

Jayde stares at her in growing shock, clearly having believed that the Capitol wouldn't let Doria win and victory was hers to take. Doria begins to smirk at her and Jayde takes a nervous step back. "I think we have our answer," Doria says slowly to her as she adjusts her hold on the bowstring. "And I don't want to fight fair."

As fast as she can, Doria raises her bow and fires at Jayde before the girl can try to run out of her path. Her arm wavers from the difficulty of firing it, but she still hits her target. Just…not where she was aiming for.

Jayde drops to the ground, arrow sticking out of her chest as she wheezes and gasps for air. Doria had been aiming for heart, but a punctured lung will do the trick. But as long seconds pass, waiting for Jayde to die, Doria starts to grow anxious that the Capitol could still change their mind at any second and make her drop dead. With a few long strides, she soon stands above Jayde and notches her arrow, taking her time to aim right for the girl's head this time. She stares up with pleading eyes and pathetically tries to raise her sword, until it clatters to the ground.

Doria stares at the arrow protruding for Jayde's head for a second, until she hears her new favorite sound.

_Boom._

She waits until she hears the announcement though and even then when Jovian tells the country that _she_ is the victor…part of her still can't quite believe it. There was always that underlying doubt in her that they wouldn't let her win, no matter how hard she tried to make them believe her.

But they did. Doria did it. She's the first rebel _victor_.

And she knows that the first thing she does when she gets in the Capitol is thanking Garia for showing the Capitol that rebels should be allowed to win.

* * *

**And we have our very first _actual_ rebel victor, Doria Jannes, Victor of the 80th Hunger Games! Are you surprised that Korrina allowed a known rebel to win? Did she make the right call? **

**Doria was a lot of fun to work on because I got to show what someone who actually fought for the cause would be willing to do so they could win. And in Doria's case, absolutely everything. But hey, this clearly worked for her since she lived! And I'm just realizing that I have several D4 female victors that are willing to play dirty to win. I guess this is a trend for me XD**

**Next chapter we'll be taking a look at a victor that has been talked about a whole lot, but we have not yet seen just what happened in their Games, so I am very excited to share that chapter! Any guesses on who it could be? If not, that will be up in the next couple of days so I will see you then!**


	6. The 81st Hunger Games: Sylvia Skylar

**Chapter 6:**

_Sylvia Skylar, District Two, Age 15_

_Victor of the 81__st__ Hunger Games_

Sylvia carefully creeps along the edge of the hallway wall, heart racing as the lights flicker overhead. A streak of fresh blood leads her down the hallway, but who's blood is it? It could belong to a tribute or one of those terrifying mutts.

She shudders at the thought of the mutt she narrowly escaped from as it chased after her, knocking over glass tubes full of other disturbing creatures floating in green liquid, tentacles reaching out for her. If not for the door locking behind her, she doesn't doubt that she would have died.

Yet it gave her an idea. She hadn't made it out of the bloodbath with any weapons. Not that she had the skills to use any of them. She had discovered food and water in the laboratory cafeteria, but food doesn't kill tributes. As terrifying as it is to face the mutt again, well, she can use that to her advantage.

But first, she had to find the remaining tributes. Somewhere, there are three more children of rebels in the complex of buildings. Surely the Gamemakers will let her win if she purposely targets them. They have to. She must get home to her younger sisters.

Sylvia reaches a corner and pauses, hearing whimpering from the other side. She slowly peers around the corner, hesitant about finding a mutt with the tribute. But she finds one of the tributes she's looking for. She finds Urie, the boy from Six, bleeding out on the ground as his District partner Pani hovers over him, pressing bandages against his wounds that quickly soak up with blood. Sylvia can tell that they're bite marks from a mutt, explaining why there was blood smeared as if someone was dragged away.

"Come on, Urie, you're going to be fine," Pani mutters to him as she tosses aside a soaked bandage. The boy doesn't respond and Sylvia can see his chest stop moving.

_Boom._

Pani lets out a scream of anger at the cannon, almost looking like she might be in tears. "Damn it, don't leave me alone in this nightmare!" The girl sits back and finally looks up, her eyes widening at the sight of Sylvia peering around the corner before scrambling to her feet, slipping on Urie's blood. Sylvia takes off back down the hallway, hearing Pani following her. "Get back here!"

Sylvia only glances back to make sure the rebel's daughter is following her before sprinting down the hallway, passing open doors but not having the time to hope that there won't be any mutts in there that will reach out and grab her. _Almost there._

She can hear Pani quickly closing the distance between them as Sylvia gets closer to the mutt she just trapped. She slips in the blood, slamming against the ground. As she tries to get up, she slips once more before Pani tackles her back to the ground. Pani starts wrestling her, struggling to get a good grip on Sylvia's neck with the blood covering her hands from her District partner. Sylvia fights against her, slowly crawling over to the doorway that she can hear the mutt hitting against.

The button to open the door glows red and Sylvia strains to reach it as Pani grabs her arm away from it. She throws her elbow back, feeling it strike Pani's face and the girl lets go of her arm, allowing Sylvia to reach up and slam her fist against the button.

Before the doors can fully slide open, disgusting black tentacles slip out and wrap around Pani's legs. She lets out a loud scream and grabs tightly on to Sylvia, desperate as the mutt starts to pull her into the room. "No, fuck no!"

Sylvia struggles against Pani's hold, trying desperately to not be dragged into the room as well. She grabs the doorframe, struggling against the weight of Pani being pulled by the mutt. The creature lets out a terrible snarl and Sylvia glances back at it, immediately wishing she didn't turn around to see the writhing mass of tentacles. She kicks around her legs, hearing a groan from Pani and the grip lighten on her. Sylvia pulls herself through the doorway as the mutt drags Pani off of her.

Sylvia scrambles to her feet and slams the button to shut the door, but not before catching sight of Pani being pulled to the mutt and a large mouth ringed with teeth. The closed door does nothing to stop the screams from reaching her as the mutt tears into the girl's flesh, and Sylvia knows that sound will haunt her forever.

_Boom._

She can feel a sob building in her chest at the fear and her heart racing, but stops when she hears a growling sound. She slowly turns her head to the right, a sweat breaking out on her forehead as a mutt that looks like a black lion starts slinking out of one of the open doorways she ran past. Except instead of a mane of fur, the mutt has tentacles writhing around. It locks its gaze on Sylvia and bears its teeth as it growls at her before Sylvia starts racing down the hallway once more, this time towards the sanctuary she knows in one of the med labs.

The mutt follows closely behind her and she can feel tears of fear pouring down her face, yet she refuses to look back at it. She can't afford to waste time when that fraction of a second could allow it to reach her.

She slams her fist against the button on the door and swings in as the doors shut. The mutt slams against it and she can hear it continue to growl as she stares at the door getting dents in it, praying that it will hold.

"Thanks for trapping us in here."

Sylvia jumps at the sound of the voice and quickly turns around to find the boy from Nine standing on the other side of the room. But from the sword he holds, Sylvia doubts he wants to be her ally. "Oh shit," she mutters as he starts running towards her.

Before he can reach her, she twists out of the doorway and slams her fist on the button, letting the mutt charge in right at the boy. She runs out as he starts screaming while the mutt snarls at him. Sylvia once again races down the hallway, desperate to get to a new building and away from the mutts in this one.

_Boom._

Two tributes dead in the span of a couple minutes, all thanks to her using the mutts in the arena. _Well, at least it wasn't three._ And now, there's only three other tributes remaining. Maybe she can do this.

* * *

**I give you a victor we have heard a whole lot about before: Sylvia Skylar, Victor of the 81st Hunger Games! **

**This chapter has been written for a long time because I was really excited to finally write Glacia's grandmother after people talking about Sylvia so much in later stories and get into the emotional trauma that she has gone through as a result of her time in the Games. And as you can see, they were quite traumatizing, but she did what she had to do to get home to her family. And if she hadn't, we wouldn't have one of our favorite victors later on!**

**Alrighty I will see you soon with the next chapter!**


	7. The 82nd Hunger Games: Rami Grant

**A/N: T****he SYOT Alliance Forum is currently hosting the third annual SYOT Awards! We are in the voting time and have lots of great nominations, so if you're interested in voting, check out the link on my profile to the forum! :)**

* * *

**Chapter 7:**

_Rami Grant, District Eight, Age 14_

_Victor of the 82__nd__ Hunger Games_

Entering the games had certainly never been part of their plans for their career. Never in the various plans they made about their future did they ever include the games. And what person would actually want to go into the games? Well, excluding the careers but they were a special case and they weren't even a thing anymore thanks to the Second Rebellion. And Rami most definitely was not one of them. When Rami first heard their name called out, they assumed this was it. No more chances for them to open up the business of their dreams.

But then they entered the arena and started to slowly realize that they might just be able to do this. And slowly their plans started to change to factor in their fame and wealth as a victor. They can pay for whatever education and training they want now. And once Rami was done, they could start up their business and start creating fashion, even aiming to sell clothes to the Capitol. Before the option of becoming victor, they hadn't even thought about selling to the Capitol because who would want to buy clothes from some nobody in District Eight? But certainly there will be some people who will want to buy clothes from Rami Grant, _victor of the 82__nd__ Hunger Games._

Well… they just have to get that title first. But they are ready to play dirty to get that title and an even better career than they had ever imagined. They were smart enough to have a solid ally and together they had come up with a plan to trap one of the remaining tributes now that their alliance had split up.

But Rami hadn't revealed all of the plan to their ally Davo. And why would they when it involved Davo being the bait and Rami probably leaving him behind? Rami wasn't particularly proud of this plan and didn't want to betray Davo, but they know they need to if they want to win. The reality of the games is that you don't win by being friendly and sometimes you have to play dirty to win. And Rami is going to win.

"I think she's approaching now," Davo whispers to them from where they're both crouched down behind a rock outcropping. They had nearly stumbled off the edge of the cliff near them, giving Rami the great idea to use this to their advantage. Throughout the night Rami had worked on setting up a trap to make it seem like the cliff extended further than it actually did while Davo set up a trail, deliberately making it seem like tributes had made their way up here.

But as Rami worked, they couldn't help but think about how few tributes were left. They were down to the final eight, their alliance making up a quarter of the tributes remaining. And so they had started to plan how to make sure their ally didn't take _their_ title as victor.

Sure enough, Davo is right and the young girl from Four is making her way up the path, searching around here for the tribute that must be around here. As she passes their hiding spot, they both crouch down even further to avoid her detecting them. But Davo messes up and a rock slips from under his foot, alerting the girl to their presence.

Rami turns to Davo, their ally's face full of fear at their detection. "I'm only a little sorry about this," Rami whispers to him before shoving their ally towards their trap. Davo lets out a cry of surprise before he lands on the false ground, immediately tumbling towards the ground. His screams grow farther away as Rami stands up, facing the girl from Four and taking out their knife to fight her.

_Boom._

The girl stares at Rami in shock, clutching her spear so tightly that her knuckles are growing white. The girl can't be older than fifteen and right now, it's clear to Rami that she never would have won.

Rami strikes out, the girl letting out a scream of surprise and swinging her spear wildly, desperately trying to hit them. But their knife cuts against the back of her hand, making her drop the weapon and cry out in pain as she holds the damaged hand to her chest, fingers barely attached. She drops to her knees, facing growing white as she stares up at Rami. "Please don't kill me! Please, my mother needs me back home!"

"Everyone has a reason to get back home," Rami coolly responds to her, contemplating what to do with her now that their trap didn't go as planned. "But unfortunately, you won't be getting back home. _I_ will be getting back home."

And with that, Rami gives a solid kick to the girl's chest and she flails out as she starts to fall backwards towards the edge of the cliff. She grasps Rami's still raised foot with her good hand, throwing them off balance as her body starts to swing over the side of the cliff. Rami falls to the ground and the girl's nails dig into their leg as they desperately try to grab onto the loose gravel on the cliff. _No, no, no, they can't die!_

Their other foot digs into the ground, stopping them from both sliding off the edge of the cliff. They're both still for a moment, Rami half hanging off the cliff and the girl only hanging by one hand from Rami's leg. The girl tries to start climbing up, using their leg as a ladder and Rami starts shaking it, trying to get her to fall off. But it's no use, she has a death grip on their leg and they can feel their grip starting to slip.

Rami glances back as she grips their ass, trying to pull herself up. And she looks scary for someone that young. Rami turns back around, searching for their knife that fell on the ground when they fell and spots it a few inches away from their hand. They carefully reach for it as they can feel themselves slipping with the girl's climbing efforts. Finally, they grasp the knife and throw their arm back as the girl lets out a cry of anger that gets suddenly cut off as Rami feels the knife make contact. The grip on them lets go and Rami turns around in time to see the girl starting to fall with the knife embedded in her skull.

They pull themselves back onto the cliff, rolling over and staring up at the sky as they breath heavy from the exertion of holding themselves and the girl on the cliff. Fuck. That was way too close.

_Boom_.

* * *

**And we have another victor: Rami Grant, Victor of the 82nd Hunger Games! They are another familiar face and anyone that read Wayward has seen them before! They're a lot of fun and I just like their no bullshit attitude and willing to do whatever it takes. Really though, that has been a lot of the victors in the first few years after the Second Rebellion as they had to toughen up to survive that. **

**We'll keep moving along with the victors! I have the 83rd and 84th written at the time of posting this so those will definitely be up this month. And then we will kick off a new era of Games with the 85th!**


	8. The 83rd Hunger Games: Cas Novak

**A/N: Trigger warning for transphobia.**

* * *

**Chapter 8:**

_Cas Novak, District Five, Age 16_

_Victor of the 83__rd__ Hunger Games_

Every time Cas thinks life cannot _possibly_ get any worse, it does.

He didn't think life back in Five could have gotten much worse after living through the Second Rebellion and having their family home destroyed, forcing them into poverty. But it did get worse when his parents turned against him when he came out and he constantly had to deal with their misgendering and constantly being called his dead name. He thought he could put up with that for just a few more years at home, but then they refused to let him get his name legally changed, forcing him to wait until he was eighteen and could move out.

And then the reaping came along. While his parents were shitty with their transphobia towards their own son, at least they weren't shitty rebels dooming him for their actions. He should be safe from the Games. His parents told him that he would be safe since they didn't do anything against the Capitol and have always been hard working citizens. But then he was still picked – and under his dead name in the wrong gender pool. If he was being forced into a death match, he was going into it as himself, so at least he got to tell the whole country who he is and they have actually _listened_. That might be the only good thing that has happened to him lately.

Cas thought he was pretty set for the Games and had a solid alliance with his District partner and the boy from Eight. But then the bloodbath happened and they lost the boy from Eight, yet they retained control of the cornucopia. Not the worst thing that could have happened – and Cas knows a way this could be worse and that's if there were actual careers. But then on the second day his partner was killed, leaving Cas all alone.

Which is how he's ended up curled in a ball against the cold metal inside the cornucopia, desperately trying to get a little bit of sleep, yet terrified to close his eyes. What did he do to deserve all of these shitty things happening to him? He's always done what he was told. He didn't go against the Capitol – he'd even call himself a loyalist now after they've fully supported him as a trans boy, unlike his family. But this? Struggling for warmth on his own and afraid of the other tributes out there? This fucking sucks ass.

"Ughhh," Cas groans in annoyance as he rolls over again, unable to get comfortable at all. He stares at the opening of the cornucopia, watching the small amount of snowflakes slowly drift down to the ground. It's not cold enough to make them all freeze to death, but just enough to make them all absolutely miserable. "Just a few minutes of sleep. That's all I ask."

Cas shuts his eyes again and curls up even more, trying to will himself to stop shivering. And slowly, his shivers start to slow and he actually finds himself growing warm. "Finally," Cas mutters to himself, eyes still shut and mind slowing as he finally grows comfortable enough to sleep.

But really, Cas should have known it was too good to be true and things can _always_ get worse in the arena.

Cas is woken up suddenly from his sleep and he breathes in quickly, only to make himself start coughing and gasping for air. Smoke stings at his eyes as he scrambles for his supplies, brain muddled from falling asleep and unable to get enough oxygen. He gets his bag and knife and starts crawling over to the opening, only to freeze up when he sees the wood blazing in the opening. "Fuck," Cas yells out and slams his fist against the cornucopia, realizing the metal is steadily growing warmer and starting to get too hot. This is not what he wanted when he asked to be warm.

"Fuck me," Cas mumbles and he covers his mouth with his sleeve in an attempt to stop breathing in the smoke as he keeps crawling closer to the blazing fire. Through his thick clothes, he can feel the heat of the metal threatening to burn him as he gets closer to the fire, but he has no choice but to push forward. It's that or die from smoke inhalation.

With a yell, Cas jumps through the fire and lands on the cold ground and the temperature difference causes hissing steam to rise around him. He quickly rolls around before having to stop to hack up a lung, barely able to get any air in. His eyes water and he wipes at them as he lays on his back, watching the fire burn all around the cornucopia. Why would the Gamemakers do this to him? Was it because he hadn't killed in a couple days or done much?

But Cas gets his answer soon enough and only has time to partially dodge the club swinging down towards his head and instead it slams into his shoulder with the crunch of bone. Cas cries out in pain as he tries to push himself up, but he falls back to the ground, unable to use his arm at all. The club hits him in the back, pushing him closer to the fire. He groans from all the pain as he rolls over onto his back and stares up at the tribute approaching him – the ally of the tribute he killed for killing his District partner. "Fuck you, Miles," Cas tries to spit at him, but Miles just laughs.

Miles walks towards him and Cas knows he can't get away from him. Not with his arm fucked up and his lungs still struggling to get enough oxygen. "You're not the first one to say that," Miles sneers as he looks at his club before glaring down at Cas. "Did you really think hiding back in the cornucopia was the safest place to hide?"

"I mean, yea-" Cas breaks off to start coughing once more as he realizes maybe it wasn't the smartest idea. But then again, he's never had the best luck. "Should have gone somewhere else so I wouldn't have to see your little bitch face again."

That pisses off Miles – and yeah, Cas probably should have kept his mouth shut considering he is in a really bad situation, but fuck this guy. "Shut the fuck up!" Miles yells as he kicks Cas in the face, making blood start pouring immediately from his nose. "You're a little pussy that won't fucking win."

Cas has been called a lot of shitty names over the years, but pussy is the one that absolutely drives him over the fucking edge. Cas screams in anger as he kicks out his leg, knocking Miles to the ground. He immediately tackles Miles, screaming in pain and anger as they start rolling around, trying to throw punches at each other. Cas knows he can't take Miles in a direct fight. He has the build of a string bean. But if Miles wanted to kill him with fire, well…

Time to let this fucker burn.

Cas gets knocked onto his back and uses the momentum to keep rolling Miles over to the blazing fire surrounding the cornucopia. Miles immediately starts screaming as he's pushed into the fire and tries to push Cas off, but Cas throws all of his weight onto him, even as his own flesh starts to burn. Miles tries to sit up and Cas screams as he brings his head forward and slams it into his, making both of them fall over from the pain.

Cas lands awkwardly on Miles and the logs, making him fall to the side. He barely has enough strength to roll himself out of the direct fire, but not enough to put out the flames on him as Miles' screams get snuffed out.

_Boom._

Cas slowly grins as he lays there, his back on fire, and begins to laugh. He's losing it. He's completely losing it and he's on fire and he can't even get himself to move.

Cas lays down his head, too weak to keep it held up anymore, and watches as the snow picks up suddenly with a big gale of wind that pushes him away from the fire that…is…being put out? He doesn't fucking know anymore. All he knows is that he's in excruciating pain that is only growing by the second. He groans as his shoulder is jostled around and his vision blackens from all the pain.

As he starts to lose consciousness, he can just barely hear the faint beeping of a gift approaching him.

* * *

**We have the victor of the 83rd Hunger Games, Cas Novak! Cas is honestly just a mood and I don't blame him for being like so done with all of this XD I know you're probably wondering how he survived after the burns and the answer is he got sponsored burn stuff and was being a bit overdramatic about the fire and wasn't actually burned too bad XD**

**So yeah, there's Cas! I have a goal of having through the 85th Games posted by the end of 2019 so stay tuned for at least two more updates! The next chapter is already written so it should be up probably within a week!**


	9. The 84th Hunger Games: Mortan Karpov

**Chapter 9:**

_Mortan Karpov, District Four, Age 17_

_Victor of the 84__th__ Hunger Games_

Mortan has been an anxious mess for the last week as the days continued to progress in the arena, the number of tributes remaining slowly decreasing, yet Mortan has stayed alive. There was already so much pressure on him at the start of the Games to, you know, _live_, but as he got further and further along, the outside pressure from Doria and her fellow victors kept pushing on him, making the anxious feeling in his stomach that something will go wrong refuse to go away. He's constantly on edge, afraid of doing anything out of line. Doria told him _so_ many things he should and shouldn't do and in the fear of the Games, many of those things have become a jumbled mess, making him want to just shut down and do nothing.

There was just so much pressure to make sure these Games went smoothly with what is going on in the Capitol. This could be the very last year of the Hunger Games ever… All depending on the outcome of the election. President Ovidius has promised that she is going to end the Games after this year, but that depends on the country reelecting her. Except it's not the whole country, just the Capitol. It's some real bullshit that the majority of the population can't even have a say in the person running the country. But that wasn't her fault. She tried to change the law but had adversity at every point and now it's too late. Mortan is terrified for if her opponent wins…Basilius Cosima will no doubt keep the Games going, long past the point of punishment for the Second Rebellion. And current polls show that the election is going to be close…too close for comfort for all the District children that may be put at risk of going into the Hunger Games.

It all comes down to these Games, if they'll show the Capitol citizens if these are a punishment that should end or if they are 'entertainment'… Which is a lot of pressure to put on a group of kids that are already in a literal death match. If Mortan thinks about it too much right now, he knows he'll have a panic attack in the middle of the arena, just like he did several times in the Capitol when Doria tried to tell him what he should do in the arena. She had so much pressure on herself with this election, regardless if she's a victor. She's still a former rebel and all of them still remember what happened to the last group of victors that were rebellious.

At least it seems like Head Gamemaker Ovidius is also trying to work in the favor of the victors and his mother. No gimmicks, no bells and whistles… Just…a giant grassy field. They didn't even all launch together around a cornucopia, just placed randomly in the arena with a bag full of supplies. Which Mortan wasn't complaining about. He didn't want to try and fight just to get some food to eat. He didn't want to kill – even though he knows if he's going to be victor, it will have to happen. Doria made that very clear to him. Kill or be killed. You have to play dirty to win because most people won't be fair – yet he can't be _too_ flashy with his kills so the Capitol's twisted minds don't think it's entertainment. Just quick deaths, try to make it painless.

Mortan knows what he has to do, yet can only think as far ahead as the next step. The end of the Games is still too far ahead with ten of them still left. If there was one downside to there not being a cornucopia they launched around, it would be that it is making the Games stretch on a lot longer than usual. But maybe that was their plan. Make the Games last so long that the Capitol starts growing bored just watching tributes wandering aimlessly over the vast grassy plain. How many Games so far since the rebellion have gone longer than a week, let alone two like he suspects their Games will? Mortan knows he is bored in here – when his anxiety isn't telling him that he needs to keep moving or nagging him in the back of his mind that he's at risk, even when there are no tributes in sight.

Which is why he is wandering in the middle of the night to find a new place to set up camp, somewhere that will hopefully make his anxiety calm down. He can't stop the feeling that he has to keep moving or the Gamemakers will punish him or push him towards another tribute, despite seeing no actual evidence of this. He's even wondered at times if the Gamemakers are even doing anything with these Games from the lack of evidence of their involvement.

Mortan comes to an abrupt stop when he sees the flickering of a dying fire in the distance, held in place from fear of not knowing what he should do right now. He doesn't want to make the wrong choice and mess up everything the victors and President are working towards with ending the Games. He doesn't want to kill. And yet…he really wants to get out of this arena and regardless of what is going on outside of here, there's only one way he'll get out of here.

And that's the deaths of the nine other tributes left.

That fact hasn't changed. Twenty one of them have to die in this arena and Mortan would really prefer not being one of them. He knows he should go to the fire and see if anyone is there… How boring is just a quick kill while the tribute is asleep? Surely he wouldn't be doing anything wrong there…

Yet his feet stay planted, staring at the dying fire for so long that it burns down to just a few coals that Mortan can barely see in the dark. He knows what he should do…yet he can't. He just can't bring himself to just go over to a tribute when they are asleep and unaware that their death is approaching.

And so he does something that probably would have gotten him killed by the Gamemakers in any normal year. Mortan turns and walks away from the tribute, leaving them for someone else to find. He keeps looking around anxiously as he walks away, still expecting something to stop him – those mutts from three years ago still give him nightmares sometimes. But he's allowed to walk away freely to go keep hiding from the tributes. He's going to just keep avoiding the tributes as long as possible and only kill if they attack him first, even if the nagging in his head tells him he won't get away with this.

But this is not a normal year. This is possibly the last year. As long as Mortan doesn't mess things up.

* * *

**So there we have our victor of the 84th Hunger Games, Mortan Karpov! And these Games also bring about the end of a sort of era within the Hunger Games history and as you'll see next chapter, things are going to change up quite a bit. But poor Mortan will think that he did mess up and was part of the reason.**

**So spoiler alert (not really XD): this was not the last year of the Hunger Games. Korrina and Myron did not succeed in getting them to end, which we will touch on in Hysteria. But what do you think about their strategy for these Games?**

**We'll have one more update from this for 2019! So I will see you soon with the victor of the 85th Games!**


	10. The 85th Hunger Games: Rosalie Stonehart

**Chapter 10:**

_Rosalie Stonehart, District Six, Age 16_

_Victor of the 85__th__ Hunger Games_

From the time of the Reapings, it was clear just how much had changed about the Games in just one year. From the complete overhaul of the escorts to the theatricality of it all – bringing back elements of the Games that Rosalie hasn't seen since the Quell. The Hunger Games have gone back to what they were before the Second Rebellion with the change of President. They have gone back to the entertainment for the Capitol. They have gone back to being _games_.

And Rosalie is here for it.

It's easier for her to understand what the Capitol wants from the tributes in this style of Games. The want a good show, keep things entertaining. The previous years were just so…boring, especially last year's Games. They were unpredictable with who would be allowed to win. Rebel or loyalist? Former rebel? Who knows what they wanted? Rosalie sure as hell didn't know. But President Basilius has made it clear that he wants _entertainment_. No more punishment for rebels, no more asking right or wrong. Just kill or be killed while making it a good show. Rosalie can do that.

She could see in the eyes of the other tributes at the start that most of them had no clue what their arena was. All they could see was the dimly lit mansion that just screamed wealth – something Rosalie is quite familiar with and it was a comfort to be in a similar place – and the high fashion clothes they were put in of various colors. But when Rosalie saw her own blue gown with fancy feather jacket next to the scarlet gown or the purple velvet suit, she knew these Games were based on a game her family played all the time. It was obvious that most of the other tributes were too poor to ever play this game or know what it is, but not Rosalie's family. And Rosalie almost always wins this game.

Rosalie hums to herself as she enters another room of the mansion, lightly hitting her wrench against her other palm. She would have preferred one of the different weapons, but at least the wrench is more straightforward than a rope. She just needs to bash someone in the head with this one while the rope could have a lot more room for error.

Rosalie pauses just inside the room, looking around what must be a lounge. A fire is blazing in the giant stone fireplace and looks so inviting, so Rosalie wastes no time in heading to the couch in front of it and laying down dramatically. With the fancy gown on, she could shut her eyes and just picture herself back at the Presidential Mansion for her victory tour party, all the Capitolites fawning over her for making these Games so riveting and exciting. They'll lavish her in gifts, adding to her already existing wealth from both her family and reward for being a victor.

It's going to be so great.

A door creaks open and Rosalie opens her eyes and peers over the top of the couch, searching for who has entered the room. Part of her is a little disappointed when she sees that it's the younger boy from Five, but she soon realizes this is a great opportunity to show the Capitol she is here to win.

"H-hello?" Rosalie stutters out as she slowly sits up more, pretending to search the room and not see the boy as he hides behind a large house plant. "Is someone there?"

The boy stays quiet, clearly going the route of hiding in hope of not being discovered by her. He's so obvious behind the plant with the glow of the fire lighting the room, but he doesn't need to know this yet. Rosalie hesitantly stands up, keeping her wrench hidden behind her so the boy doesn't see it. "I-I don't…" Rosalie does her best fake sob – something she has perfected over the years to convince her parents to get her things she wants. "I do-don't want to hurt anyone… Please don't hurt me."

Rosalie waits a couple minutes in mostly silence, occasionally letting out another sob or whimper and even pretending to wipe at fake tears. She's about ready to give up the act and just attack the boy when there's finally some rustling and the boy comes out from his shitty hiding spot. And she has to fight the grin that wants to form when she sees that he doesn't have any weapons in his hands. "I don't want to get hurt either…" he says and Rosalie whimpers again to play up the act as the boy steps closer to her, squinting in confusion. "Who is it?"

Rosalie tilts her head in confusion before glancing behind her and realizing the blazing fire must be silhouetting her, making it impossible for the boy to know who she is. As she turns back to face him, finding him still slowly inching closer towards her, a smile finally starts to form. She grips the wrench tighter in her hand behind her back, knowing exactly what game this arena is based on and exactly how she can show the Capitol that she is willing to play like they want her to.

"It's Rosalie," she starts slowly, taking a step towards the boy. "In the lounge," she takes another step and the boy takes a hesitant step back from her. She pauses to grin, always loving the satisfaction of correctly guessing who the murderer is, and where and how they did it. She never quite expected to play her favorite board game in real life, but she is finding it's just as fun.

"With the wrench."

With that, Rosalie lunges towards the boy and swings the wrench into his head, knocking him to the ground instantly. He groans in pain as he tries to crawl away from her, so Rosalie keeps bringing down the wrench on his head. She keeps going as blood splatters around him and she hears the crunch of bone as his skull shatters, and only stops when she hears a different sound that's music to her ears.

_Boom._

Rosalie steps back, staring down at the bloody corpse and the bloody wrench in her hands, not feeling bothered by her action. If anything, it's the smell of the blood that is getting to her. Watching the Games just doesn't prepare you for what all that blood smells like. Rosalie retches a bit but holds it in, not wanting to let the Capitol see her reacting negatively to killing. Instead, she crouches down and uses the boy's green suit to wipe off her bloody wrench. "Clearly you have never played this game before. You don't win by not wanting to hurt people."

She stands back up and picks up the bottom of her dress as she carefully steps around the boy to avoid the spreading pool of blood. That's going to leave a nasty stain on the carpet. Rosalie rests her wrench on her shoulder as she heads towards the door she came through just a little while ago, knowing they'll need to take care of the body and also just not wanting to stay near the smell of that blood. She resumes her humming and smiles for the Capitol as she heads back out into the rest of the mansion, one thought on her mind.

She's not losing this game. The victor will be Rosalie from Six, using the wrench, and hopefully ending it in the ballroom.

* * *

**It's time to kick off a new era of Games victors, starting with Rosalie Stonehard, Victor of the 85th Hunger Games! Clearly there was a big shift in the style and mood towards the Games with the change in presidency. And starting off with a more invalid victor too!**

**Looking forward to starting a new era of Games and I will see you in 2020 with our next victor!**


	11. The 86th Hunger Games: Haider Blake

**Chapter 11:**

_Haider Blake, District Nine, Age 15_

_Victor of the 86__th__ Hunger Games_

"Let's give it up one more time for Haider Blake!"

Haider grins widely at the crowd and gives them a friendly wave, making them cheer louder for him as he walks off the stage, the last they'll glimpse of him in person here in the Capitol for six months. But as soon as he's backstage and out of sight, he drops his arm and the smile turns to a frown, feeling the weight of the crown sitting on his head, heavy with the guilt of what he's done – and keeps doing. He didn't want to kill the three tributes, yet he did… And now he's the one that has to keep living with the guilt.

_He didn't have a choice._

Haider knew that the Hunger Games had been turned back into entertainment for the Capitol, but a fucking _disco_ themed arena? That's just a bit excessive. Yet after the success of Rosalie last year with her clear support of the entertainment aspect, what choice did Haider have but to replicate her strategy? Gone are the days of being respectful of the tributes dying and now are the days where you support President Basilius Cosima's Games or you die. Haider was just the smart one that recognized this and took advantage of it.

He can only imagine how disgusted in him his family and friends are right now… After all, he didn't try too hard to hide his disapproval at home in Nine when they knew there wasn't any watching eyes. But he did exactly what he disapproved of. He proudly proclaimed his support of the Capitol before the Games. He embraced the dumbass roller skates they put all of the tributes in for the arena. Hell, he even won by killing the last tribute with a _disco ball._

Was living worth backtracking on his morals? Is this constant guilt worth it? Maybe if he does some good from this new title and wealth it can be worth it.

"Quite an act you put on there."

"A-act?" Haider questions nervously as he looks over at the President of Panem approaching him and he does his best to keep smiling. He nervously wipes his sweating hands on his pants as President Basilius stops in front of him, fixing him with a stare that feels like he sees right through Haider. "Fo-forgive me, President, and I mean no disrespect, but I don't know what act you are talking about, sir."

"Don't lie to me," President Basilius folds his arms behind his back as he stares Haider down, making a sweat start to form nervously on the victor's forehead. "And drop the smile. We both know you have been lying through your teeth the entire time you've been in the Capitol and the Games."

Haider obediently nods his head and drops his smile, keeping his face neutral as he nervously meets the President's gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Come, take a walk with me," President Basilius tells him as he looks around backstage, staring down all the people there. "It's too busy here."

"Of course, sir," Haider answers, fear nearly keeping him in place but he forces himself to follow President Basilius who walks ahead, not wasting time glancing back to see if Haider is following him. Of course he is, he's not an idiot.

But maybe he is because his lying act got him into this situation in the first place.

The President leads him to the side, away from other people before he turns back to Haider. "As I said, that was quite the act you put on. I could use an actor like you, show the country what their future looks like, drive up support for my presidency," President Basilius tells him and Haider can feel a chill go down his spine at the cold calculating look in his eyes. "What do you say?"

Haider carefully thinks over his answer, knowing that this really isn't up for debate. His family really isn't going to want anything to do with him after he has to do this for the President. And now…not only are the days of respecting the tributes gone, but the days of respecting the victors are also gone… "Yes, sir, I can do that… Will that be all I need to do?"

President Basilius gives him a wicked smile and Haider takes an involuntary step back from him, which he notices and only makes him smile more. "We'll see how well you do. If your acting continues to impress people…then perhaps we'll have you do more."

Haider nods his head at this, his throat tightening in fear of what those additional things could mean and preventing him from answering. He must keep his act going…just enough to not be punished for failing at filming the propaganda, but not enough to get forced into much worse things.

"Excellent," President Basilius pats his shoulder harshly, gripping onto it tightly. He waits for Haider to react to it, but Haider just forces himself to smile and hide his pain and fear. "Someone will be in contact with you with a schedule of when you will be in the Capitol filming with Rosalie. Don't disappoint me, Haider."

Haider nods his head and the President lets go of him, leaving him to stand there in fear as he watches his retreating figure. _What have you gotten yourself into, Haider?_

* * *

**No, I did not forget about this story XD Just got put on the backburner for a while as I worked on Senseless and Legacy. But now that I'm nearly at the point where I've written ahead in those stories to the point where I have to wait for subs or sponsoring, I'm back to do some work on this story!**

**So we switch things up a bit here with Haider! We're in quite the different era of the Hunger Games, focused all on entertainment and using the victors for the President's agenda. So I felt it was important to show that here and I might try to do this a bit more often where we see things before or after the Games. But what a legend, winning by killing someone with a disco ball.**

**I'll be back soon with the next chapter! Also stay tuned for a new for fun story I'll be posting next Wednesday... *eyes emoji***

**And if you don't already know, the SYOT Alliance forum is hosting Aprilooza, a fun daily event for the month of April where we have daily events to build up community involvement! It's not too late to come join in on the fun and the link for the forum is on my profile :)**

**Alrighty, see you in two weeks!**


	12. The 87th Hunger Games: Theo Crowley

**Chapter 12:**

_Theo Crowley, District One, Age 16_

_Victor of the 87__th__ Hunger Games_

Theo doesn't know if his lungs can take one more day in this dusty ass arena. He's sure the Capitol is loving the tributes in the Wild West, but Theo just wants to be anywhere else than here. At least they were kind enough to give them a bandana to wear with their ridiculous cowboy costumes. He swears, that's the only thing that's stopped him from having a damn asthma attack when they wouldn't let him bring his inhaler as his token.

_Bastards_. If he goes down in history as the tribute that died from asthma, he will make sure to haunt the President and Gamemakers for the rest of their lives.

Theo pulls down the bandana as he sits on the edge of the well, taking a slow sip of water to replace all the water he's lost sweating in this damn arena. Dusty and hot…fun wow, he loves it _so_ much. He'd rather be in the stupid disco arena from last year. Theo lets out a sigh, wishing there were less tributes left. They've just past the halfway point, yet he's ready to be out now. He's tired of this heat making him sweat all day. He's tired of the dust threatening his lungs. And he's tired of wearing damn chaps that thankfully aren't assless.

Maybe if he actually went and looked for tributes more instead of sitting around complaining about the arena, he'd get out of here sooner. But the thought of walking around all day and not finding someone sounds more unpleasant than waiting at a water source with a trap in place.

"Freeze, partner."

"Partner?" Theo can't help but scoff and laugh at whoever is playing along with this arena enough to say _partner_. But when he glances over his shoulder, his smile very quickly fades away when he sees who it is.

Of course…the one person Theo didn't want to run into in this arena.

Theo slowly turns his body to look back at Bertha – what a name, never change District Ten – the eighteen year old girl pure muscle from wrangling bulls. Like Theo knows he's not lacking when it comes to muscles, but he doesn't even come close to her. If there's anyone that belongs in this specific arena, it's her.

Bertha holds an old wooden revolver at him and Theo slowly sets his canteen of water down beside him before holding his hands in front of him. "Slowly move the water over to me."

"This well is full of water," Theo tries to reason with her, not wanting to give up his precious water canteen. "You can have full control of it."

"I will after your death," Bertha says as she gestures to the water canteen with her revolver before cocking it, the sound making Theo freeze up. "Now give it to me."

Theo stares at the gun, trying to know if he's about to royally fuck up or if he can get out of this absurd situation. When Bertha gestures with it again, he spots the fingerprints of blood on the side of it and he slowly smiles at her and shakes his head. "I'll pass."

"Bastard," Bertha says before she pulls the trigger.

_Bang!_

Theo winces for a moment at the sound of the gun firing, before laughing in amusement at the gun just having a flag hanging from it saying 'Bang!' Of course the Capitol doesn't want them killing each other with guns, despite it fitting the arena. The deaths would be too fast and not enough action. Theo already made the mistake of using the gun and luckily it cost the other tribute his life. And now it's going to cost Bertha hers.

Theo moves quickly as Bertha stares at the gun in confusion quickly turning to anger, reaching for the whip at his side hidden from her and lashing out at her face. Bertha yells out in pain and drops the gun as she steps back to clutch her face. Theo tackles her, surprising both of them when he knocks her to the ground, and they begin to tumble as they both try to get the upper hand to choke the other out.

But Theo really should have just taken the loss and ran away from Bertha instead of fighting her, and soon she is on top of him and choking him – kinky in any other situation – and as he gasps for air, he tries punching her stomach, anything to get her to let go. His hand brushes a knife as he starts running out of air and he grabs it and slams it into Bertha's chest.

Bertha lets go immediately and stumbles back as Theo gasps for air, clutching his throat as he watches her fall to the ground, bleeding profusely.

_Boom._

Theo bursts out laughing at the fact that his plan actually worked – he really didn't think anyone would be a dumbass like him and fall for it – but soon starts coughing from his sore throat. He doesn't care though, he just took out one of the strongest tributes in the arena. Theo did! Oh if only he was at home to see the look on the face of his ex, he bets it's gold.

"Yeehaw, mother fucker," Theo whispers at her before quickly shaking his head and sitting up, embarrassed at himself. "Nope, never saying yeehaw again."

* * *

**We have our next victor, Theo Crowley of District One! I am having fun with this time in the Games history with making the arenas as absurd and entertaining as possible compared to the ones I write in my SYOTs. Also Theo did make it out of the arena without having an asthma attack lol.**

**Not too much to say here about this chapter that I haven't said in the previous chapters lol. But as far as other stories go, I've recently started up a story following Darach's Games called Ashes, Legacy is chugging along and I've nearly written through the bloodbath, and Senseless is almost done and subs for the sequel, Renegades, are opening this Friday (April 24th!). So yeah, go check out my other stories if you haven't already because those will be updated a lot more frequently than this story lol.**

**See you whenever I get around to writing the next one lol XD**


	13. The 88th Hunger Games: Embla Rinyes

**Chapter 13:**

_Embla Rinyes, District Six, Age 18_

_Victor of the 88__th__ Hunger Games_

The splash in the water woke Embla up with a start and it took everything in her to not let out a noise in shock and alert whoever was in the bathhouse with her that she is there. That was so stupid of her to fall asleep. She couldn't help it though, not in the warm water of the bath house. She had meant to just soak for a bit, wash away the sweat, blood, and grime from a week in the arena…and now she's surely going to be caught.

But her luck wasn't out yet and it seems like the other tribute didn't know she was there, the steam too thick to see her across the vast bath. She could almost kiss whoever is running the arena and kept the water steaming hot.

"Get it off!" they all but screamed to get the blood off of their hands as they splash around in the water, desperately scrubbing away at blood. Embla recognized the desperation in their voice, having felt it after she had made her first kill and had blood on her hands. But she also knew that meant they were also a killer and when push comes to shove, most likely won't hesitate to kill once more. And she happens to be the closest tribute for them to kill.

_Not if she kills them first._

Embla couldn't let her advantage here go to waste. Not when she was sitting in a bath with someone who has killed. She doesn't care who it is. They're standing between her and victory.

She quietly took a deep breath before plunging her head under the water. She kicked off from the wall, using it to propel her forward across the bath. As she gets closer, she can see them scrubbing their hands under the water – but no knife in their hands. _Good._

As her lungs start to burn for air, she braces her feet to push her up above the surface. She only has one shot to surprise them and can't waste it. Embla clutches her knife tightly before she kicks herself above the water in a big splash, gasping for air as she gets ready to stab her knife into the tribute in front of her.

Embla recognizes the tribute as her District partner Ji-Yeong just before she drives the knife into their chest, too late to stop the movement even if she wanted to. And as much as there is an unspoken rule about not killing District partners…she doesn't care about the rules when it's a matter of life or death.

But still, shock fills both of their faces as they stare down at the knife sticking out of Ji-Yeong's chest. Neither of them dares to move – Embla out of shock that was quickly fading away and Ji-Yeong out of fear that removing the knife will make them bleed out faster. "I didn't know it was you," Embla tells them, not apologizing for her action, but still explaining herself. They'd been so quiet the whole time in the Capitol, terrified for their life and barely speaking that Embla hadn't recognized the panic screams as they desperately tried to scrub blood off of themself. She hadn't given them a second thought since the bloodbath, fully expecting them to die early on. The fact that they made it to the top half was actually remarkable. Clearly something must have snapped in them in the arena to drive them to kill.

But Embla also changed in the arena.

She yanks out the knife from their chest and they gasp in pain as tears start to fall down their cheeks. "W-why?" they stutter out as they start to sink down into the bloodstained water. They let out one last gasp for air before their eyes flutter closed, dying without hearing any apology from Embla.

_Boom._

Embla sighs at the body of her District partner floating in the water and gently pushes it away from her. She gets out and sits on the edge of the bath, staring at Ji-Yeong's body, waiting for…guilt. Shouldn't she feel guilty for killing her District partner? She feels like she should. Everyone is surely expecting her to be feeling it. But she's not. Why should she feel guilty when taking their life puts her one step closer to getting home? Maybe if she had purposely hunted them down she'd feel guilty. This…this was just an accident. She just didn't recognize them in time to not kill them.

Yet even if she had recognized them…she still would have killed them. They might not have been the strongest tribute, but they were her biggest competitor. Their victory would have meant certain death. Only one of them ever had a shot at getting home to District Six and she wasn't going to let it not be her.

"Sorry you were in the wrong place, Ji-Yeong," Embla whispers to their corpse as she pulls herself up. Watered down blood drips off of her, a sure sign for anyone to follow after her until she dries off. For a moment, she contemplates hiding in the room until she's dried, but soon changes her mind, setting off through the open door. She runs a bloodied hand over the paper door and down the hallway, hoping someone will see it.

Let them come and find her. She's not afraid to take more lives. These people in this arena mean nothing to her. The only one she might have hesitated to kill in this arena she _did_ kill.

Embla doesn't care if they hate her in Six when she gets back home. All she cares about is getting home.

* * *

**I give you Embla Rinyes, Victor of the 88th Hunger Games! The legendary woman who got Dampero his hot tub lol.**

**Wow, what's this? A new Victor Memoirs? Yes, I did not forget about this story lol. It just put on the furthest backburner for a long time as I worked through Ashes. Well, today I got the motivation to do some writing for it so here we are! _And_ I have the next victor done to so woo having two new updates! Working my way through the early years with mostly undeveloped victors is a double edged sword - I get to develop new victors, but at the same time, it means I have to start from scratch and so that's made me struggle a little with some of these. But we're just a few victors out from getting to the ones we all know and love so I'm looking forward to reaching that point!**

**So here's to hoping I'll do some more writing with this story and not put it to the backburner again for another few months lol.**


	14. The 89th Hunger Games: Amara Harvelle

**Chapter 14:**

_Amara Harvelle, District Ten, Age 15_

_Victor of the 89__th__ Hunger Games_

It was honestly miraculous that Amara had made it to the finale. She certainly wasn't the oldest tribute but thankfully there had been younger. She wasn't the strongest by any means – wrangling bulls could only give a scrawny fifteen year old girl so much strength. She was taller than some, a fact she resented over the years as she struggled to feel comfortable in her body.

But quite simply, she was not victor material.

Yet here she is, getting chased down the moving hallways by a murderous clown. She thought nothing would make her run more than a raging bull with his eyes set on her, but woo boy, this clown takes the cake there. The clown laughs once more and Amara stumbles over her feet, struggling to stay upright as the floor keeps moving underneath her. "Fuuuuccckk this place," Amara mumbles as she glances back over her shoulder, immediately regretting that when she sees the clown gaining on her and flashing its sharp teeth.

As she turns to watch where she's going, the room spins around her and she slows for a moment, worried she hit her head or something, but no, it's just this awful arena they put her in. One last high pitched laugh over her shoulder as her throwing open the door at the end of the hallway with her shoulder and immediately stops when she comes face to face with her reflection.

"Shit, I thought I looked awful _before _all of this," Amara says as she grimaces at her reflection, but jumps when the door shuts behind her. She can hear another door shut, but all around her, she just sees her own reflection as she finds herself in a maze of mirrors. If they were going for maximum terror, they certainly picked the scariest place to put someone who struggles every time she is faced with her reflection.

"Where are you?!" Tumelo shouts in the room, the noise echoing around them. But thankfully, there is no more clown laughter. There's a thud as Tumelo runs into something and Amara realizes that as disoriented as she is in these mirrors…so is the boy from Nine.

She goes around a corner and jumps when she sees the boy across the room. When he catches sight of her and starts running towards her, only for him to run straight into a glass wall. He bounces off of it, clutching his head and Amara darts around another corner, bumping into a mirror. If he's just as confused as she is…

She can use that to her advantage. She needs every advantage she can get against the older and stronger boy.

Amara keeps her hand along the right edge as she crouches down, slowly following the wall of mirrors and glass as it twists and turns, all while listening for Tumelo. Every so often she catches a glimpse of him or he sees her and they try to run towards each other, only to get stopped by the maze.

"God damn it!" Tumelo yells as he slams his fist against a mirror and Amara jumps, realizing he's much closer than she thought he was. Her heart is racing as she slowly edges around a corner, creeping close to the floor in the hopes that she'll see him before he sees her. The time for her to fight was getting closer and closer… Yet she is still hesitating. What if she gets this far just to lose it all in second place? How can she do that to her family when she's so close to victory?

But the sound of clown laughter on the edges of the room having her moving once more, frantic to avoid getting forced into the fight by a killer clown. Not today, please.

If she gets out of this arena alive…she is never getting in the same room as a clown.

"Fuck this room!" Tumelo shouts and Amara realizes he's right around the corner now. Her hand shakes as she grips her knife in her hand and slowly peers around the corner, ready to move immediately if he is facing her. But luck still hasn't left her and he faces the other way, not noticing her in the mirror in front of him until she leaps forward.

Amara tackles Tumelo's legs with a cry, bringing him down to the ground. His head bangs against the mirror and Amara quickly stabs her knife into his legs a couple times until he kicks at her chest. She gasps for air as she darts back around the corner and Tumelo stumbles after her. From the loud thuds coming from behind her, she knows he hasn't figured out how the maze works.

She finds an alcove where he'll see her as he turns and waits, her hand hurting from how tightly she grips her knife. When Tumelo sees her, he runs right at her, only for his fist to slam into her reflection. Amara jumps onto his back, using her weight to knock him off balance. He backs up into the wall, trying to knock her off of him, and she barely holds onto him as the air is slammed out of her lungs. With a cry, Amara starts stabbing her knife at his chest, over and over as she hangs on for dear life as he thrashes around, shattering the mirrors around them and desperately trying to get her off of him.

"You fucking bitch, I'll kill you!" Tumelo screams as he grabs the knife with his hand, slicing into his palm as he rips it out of her grip.

Amara quickly shoves herself off of him and stumbles to the ground. He hovers over her, bleeding from the stab wounds on his chest and fire burning in his eyes as he stares her down. Her hands sting as she backs away from him, getting sliced up by the shards of mirror and she grabs a piece. She lunges up at him as he makes his move towards her, screaming as her hand gets cut up as she drives the shard into his stomach. Tumelo stabs the knife into her shoulder and she shoves him away before he can yank it out, watching him bleed out from the injuries she gave him.

There's one final laugh in the room as Tumelo drops to the ground, sending a shiver down Amara's spine just before the final cannon booms.

* * *

**We have Amara Harvelle, victor of the 89th Hunger Games! And we**** love spooky fun house of death! Just kidding, I would absolutely hate being in that arena lol. But yeah, this one was a fun one to write and develop Amara! She is just a good bull wrangler tryin' to run away from spooky clowns. **

**Well that's all I got to say. Currently I have through the 97th Games written (a few were already written) so I'll have consistent updates for this for a few weeks (as long as I remember to update lol). **


	15. The 90th Hunger Games: Sri Gadrel

**Chapter 15:**

_Sri Gadrel, District One, Age 17_

_Victor of the 90__th__ Hunger Games_

There was a big uncertainty going into the Games this year with a brand new Gamemaker at the helm. But one thing didn't change when Akakios Salome took over: the arenas were still all about entertainment.

And Sri was okay with that. Sometimes it's good to have some consistency, even if that consistency is just the Gamemakers wanting to make the Games as entertaining as possible. Sri is able to work with that to earn their victory. But really, they're just glad it's somewhere out in the sun and not that dark and freaky funhouse arena from the previous year. Ugh, just thinking about it sends a shiver down their spine.

Sri has always had a bit of a flare for the dramatic – they didn't actively get leads in the newly rebuilt theater department for no reason – and so they knew what had to be done to make sure the Gamemakers favor them for victory.

They made it so easy for them with this arena.

Sri had charmed their way into the alliance that had holed up in what seemed to be one of the two bases of the arena that they could only describe as a pirate island. It didn't take much to win their trust and then slit their throats in the night, leaving them as the sole occupant of the building. There was only one entrance to the building on top of a cliff and that was across a rickety rope bridge and they were ready to take full advantage of that whenever the Gamemakers sent a tribute their way.

That time had finally come.

Sri hears the clinking sound of the bone trip wire, signaling someone was approaching and quickly put on the old hat they found and picked up the scimitar. They twirl the sword in their hand a little bit and take a couple deep breaths, hyping themself up for the fight that is about to happen. This is what they've been preparing for, after all. But now that it's here…they're a little scared.

But it's show time though. They have to go out on stage – or rather, out into the arena. They slap the side of their face a couple times to hype themself up, just like they do back in One before any show, before kicking open the door with a shout of rage. How dare these tributes come towards them! They will tremble in fear at them!

"Who goes there?!" they shout in a booming voice as they stand on the porch, staring out at the approaching threat. They keep their chest puffed out, one hand holding their scimitar up and the other on their hip, hoping to look threatening.

But they very quickly realized that they were not the bigger threat, for standing at the other end of the rope bridge was not one, not two, but _three_ tributes. The other tributes aren't the ones trembling in fear. Sri is the one trembling.

"Oh shit," Sri mutters to themself and quickly runs over to the rope bridge, knowing they have to work fast if they are to have any chance of survival. They start hacking away at one end of the rope where it connects to the posts, hoping that somehow this will work.

It takes until the three are halfway across for them to get through one side and the bridge shakes precariously. They desperately cling to the rope as Sri starts hacking at the other side and they realize what they are doing. "What the fuck are you doing?!" the girl from Five shouts at them. She starts running towards them while the other two start running back to the other side, desperately trying to get off the bridge before Sri can make it collapse.

Sri lets out a cry of success when they get through the remaining rope and the bridge starts swinging over towards the cliff. The girl from Five tries to leap towards them at the last second, but her hands scrap at the cliff as she screams, falling down to her death. The other two cling to the bridge as it slams into the other side of the cliff. The impact sends one of them falling to the ground and two cannons fire in quick succession.

"HA!" Sri shouts at the one boy who has managed to cling to the bridge. He starts climbing up it, almost slipping a few times, and Sri scowls when he pulls him up onto the other side of the cliff. But hey, at least they managed to get _two_ more kills in a matter of minutes! "That's what you get for trying to mess with me! No one can touch me, the victor!"

With that, Sri turns and starts heading back into the building, but they realize that truly no tribute is going to be able to touch them here. But that can't last forever. Not if they want to get out of this arena. The Gamemakers won't let them win without making any other kills.

Sri glances back at the rope bridge they cut down, realizing they had cut the only way to this cliff. Their plan worked well…maybe _too_ well…

How were they going to get down from here to find the other tributes?!

* * *

**And there we have Sri Gadrel, victor of the 90th Hunger Games and for anyone that likes stats, their win puts D1 in the lead at this point with the most victors. This also kicks off a new era of the Games with Akakios as the Head Gamemaker that will span a couple decades. **

**Not much for me to say here aside from the usual. At the time of posting this, I have 8 updates stockpiled for this so as long as I remember to update, there will be consistent updates for a while. **

**See you next week with a familiar victor from District Two.**


	16. The 91st Hunger Games: Bronn Vangler

**Chapter 16:**

_Bronn Vangler, District Two, Age 14_

_Victor of the 91__st__ Hunger Games_

The dry ground of the savannah was quickly turning crimson. It was impossible to tell anymore who the blood belonged to anymore and even though the sight of it and what he just did was making his stomach turn, Bronn just couldn't turn his gaze away from the blood stained ground. The blood that he contributed to.

_Boom._

Bronn finally tears his attention away from the blood at the sound of the cannon firing and stares at the now dead body of Elma. His first kill. He didn't set out to kill her...she was the one that did that to _them._ She was the one who hunted down two boys and brutally killed one of them and tried to kill Bronn. But he didn't let her. Somehow, he survived her. Minutes have passed and Bronn can barely bring himself to move, frozen in surprise at what he just did. When he entered this arena...he really didn't think he was capable of killing anyone. But the proof is right in front of him, showing that when it comes down to it, he'll do what everyone else does and he'll kill the other tributes.

The body still lays in front of him, her face twisted in the shock from Bronn retaliating at her, splattered with her own blood and the blood of Fai, Bronn's former ally. If only he had been fast enough to fight back against her before she killed his ally... But he wasn't. He realized a second too late what was happening and couldn't even get out a scream of warning. He doesn't even want to look over at his ally's body, instead focusing on the girl in front of him. No, not girl, the...tribute. Ah, who is he trying to kid, he can't pretend the tributes aren't people.

But he knows he has to get moving soon before the Gamemakers get mad at his delay. His knife still rests in her neck and he yanks it out, causing blood to gush out over his hand. At the warmth, he stumbles back before turning to a bush next to him and hurling up the small breakfast of nuts he had shared with Fai. And even once that is long gone, he keeps gagging at the smell of the blood. Once the contents of his stomach are cleared, he stands up and wipes his shaky hands on his shirt. He hesitantly looks back over at the two bodies near him, not wanting to throw up once more. His stomach stays steady as he looks at the older girl from Seven and her twisted face. But his ally and friend… That's a different story.

"I'm sorry, Fai," Bronn lets out a sigh as he sits down on the ground next to his friend. His face still has the hint of the laughter they had been sharing just before an axe was buried into his back by Elma. Bronn hadn't even thought twice about jumping up and burying the knife in her neck as she tried to yank her axe out of his back. But now, they're both dead.

And there's only one other person left in the arena.

The thought hadn't reached him yet until he stared at the two dead tributes in front of him. It had happened so quickly, but now, only the boy from Eight is left. Bronn is in the final two. Sure, the other boy is older and a lot larger than him, but Bronn now has a kill and he didn't hesitate to fight to save himself.

He might just be able to win and get home.

Who would have thought that the untrained fourteen-year-old from Two would be in the final two? Certainly not the Capitol crowds. They had all been rooting for Garni since he had trained. But the boy from One had died in the bloodbath because he rushed in and made a stupid mistake. Bronn hadn't done that and look at where he is now.

He grabs the knife tucked in Fai's belt and places it in his own before standing up, swinging his bag up onto his back. He doesn't look back at the bodies as he starts walking east, back in the direction of the cornucopia, with a new determination in his step. Bronn can do this. He's not afraid anymore that he is incapable of killing. He just might be able to become victor.

Bronn just might get home to his family.

The thought of seeing his parents again brings a smile to his face and adds to his determination to fight and win. "Hey Sylvia," he shouts up at the pink sky, knowing there will be cameras on him right now. The Capitol is surely watching him now and some must be rooting for him. And the most important person rooting for him in the Capitol is his mentor who has gone through so much on her own. But not for much longer. "Get ready to have your first victor!"

* * *

**And there we have Bronn Vangler, Victor of the 91st Hunger Games, someone who will be familiar to those who have read my other stories. Bronn's just a good person who deserves a whole bunch of happiness and better than the Games. And he does get that, just after a few years.**

**Well stay tuned for more updates since I have this written through the 100th Games at the time of posting this. That's all I gotta say lol. Nothing new to add to this A/N on the 16th chapter of a story. Anyways, be back with the 92nd Games next week, assuming I remember that it is Wednesday (a big if considering I forgot today was Wednesday until 4 pm lol).**


	17. The 92nd Hunger Games: Isidore Tecne

**Chapter 17:**

_Isidore Tecne, District Three, Age 17_

_Victor of the 92__nd__ Hunger Games_

Isidore never imagined herself going into the games and she most definitely didn't imagine herself becoming a victor. There wasn't any future for herself in District Three that didn't involve her being miserable and forced to work in the factories making stupid technology for the Capitol. Anything to keep her family alive and food on the table.

And yet, here she is, one of the final two in the games. So close to escaping a future she never wanted, yet being forced into a new, harsh one. She knows already that she's never going to escape the memories of what she did in this arena. What she still has to do. But isn't being alive and haunted by memories of dead kids better than being dead at fifteen?

Maybe. Maybe not. But she was going to do her best to figure out what that life is going to be like. And then, she'll never have to worry about her family starving again or being unhappy because they're constantly working double shifts. And Markos will be able to stay in school as long as he wants to and get a better life for himself.

The thought of her younger brother being happy brings a small smile on her face as she enters the tall grass field that surrounds the cornucopia in a ring. She had fought for her own future up until now, but her final motivation to win will be helping her family.

Isidore pauses as the grass she's pushing aside brushes against itself, creating a beautiful chiming sound. How had she not noticed this before? Well, the only time she had been here was when she ran from the cornucopia and all she could hear was her heart pounding and people screaming as they were killed. Everything in this arena made some sort of noise when touched – she learned that the hard way when she stepped on a flower and it made a horrible screeching sound and brought a tribute towards her. But this? This was beautiful.

She sweeps out her left arm, hoping it wasn't some fluke. But she enough, it also makes a sound. Isidore's smile grows as she keeps walking, creating a beautiful melody as she makes her way to her final battle. She starts humming along to the sound, memorizing it for after she makes it out of the arena. For when she has the opportunity to finally compose music.

All too soon, she reaches the edge of the grass and can see the golden cornucopia glittering in the rising sun. Isidore takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of the sun rising, knowing she won't see it set tonight in the arena, or possibly ever see it again.

Before she steps out of the grass, she scans the open area, searching for any sign that her final opponent is here and just waiting for her to appear. But Rheana is nowhere to be seen, allowing Isidore to search the remains of the supplies for a better weapon to use in the final fight against the girl from Eleven. The large broken branch that she's used as a club has served her well up to this point, but Isidore would rather not take her chances in the final fight. She might not be smart like most of her District, but she certainly isn't dumb.

The supplies are thoroughly picked through but as she walks into the cornucopia, she can see a mace tucked away in the back of it. Of course it's still there. No one wants to risk messing up with clubbing someone to death when they can use a sharp sword instead. Well, no one besides herself. She grabs the handle, the grip almost feeling like it was meant for her, making her pause as she stares down at the mace, studded with sharp spikes.

_Did they place this here just for her?_

Maybe. Or maybe not. It doesn't matter, as long as it keeps her alive. As she exits the cornucopia, she tucks her makeshift club into her belt, keeping it just in case her new weapon sucks. And then, she stares around for a moment, wondering how long she has until she faces her final opponent and possibly her own death. But immediately she feels uneasy about her blindspots and walks to the side of the cornucopia, searching for a way to climb up it for a better vantage point. A few empty crates surround her and she quickly pushes them into a makeshift staircase, and then she waits.

Isidore waits and waits, muscles tense as she continuously circles around on top of the cornucopia, waiting for her opponent. Waiting for her chance to get out of this misery and home to her family. She's kept waiting until the sun is directly above her – damn Capitol and their need to sleep in. Can't they see that she's ready to get out of here? Finally, she sees some rustling in the grass, approaching her from the south. She hefts her mace up into a better striking position, bracing herself for this fight.

One more fight and then she's home.

* * *

**And we have Isidore Tecne, Victor of the 92nd Hunger Games! Oops, forgot to post this last week lol, it's miraculous I remembered that today is Wednesday XD But anyways, there's Isidore, a victor we have seen before in Wayward! She's one of my fav tropes of victor that isn't the obvious winner at first but proves they have that drive to win. And yeah, this one is a little on the shorter side but I don't feel like going in and adding more to it lol. Apparently Wayward Era Me didn't write as much as I thought *shrugs*.**

**Again, not much else to say here. We'll see if I remember next week to post an update for this lol. Next up will be another new victor so see you whenever I next remember that it's Wednesday!**


	18. The 93rd Hunger Games: Petrina Bevell

**Chapter 18:**

_Petrina Bevell, District One, Age 15_

_Victor of the 93__rd__ Hunger Games_

Petrina could count on more than one hand the amount of times she has wished she couldn't hear what's going on around her in this arena. She didn't want to hear the screams of kids younger than her when she drove her axe into their heads, ending their lives. She didn't want to hear the awful sounds coming from the mutts that have chased her and others around the graveyard, awful horrible creatures that she could only wonder what sick, twisted person could come up with that.

She didn't want those sounds haunting her nightmares.

The blood and horror on their faces was enough to haunt her. The screams just…made it ten times worse. If she somehow makes it out of this arena alive…well, she'll deal with the nightmares from a nice, secure home in One.

Petrina so desperately wanted to sleep and could feel her eyelids growing heavy as she strained to stay awake. She can't give in to sleep. Not when she has no allies and night is falling. That's when the mutts come out. She hopes she'll be safe up in the tree, too high up for the mutts to reach her but…she really doesn't know.

That's the worst part of the arena: never truly knowing what to expect. One wrong move could mean death and she might not even see it coming. She might as well be one of the three blind mice when night rolls around.

She snorts in laughter at her own internal joking around and quickly covers her mouth, worried that she was too loud and someone – or some_thing_ – will have heard her. She peers around the ground below her, desperately straining to see any movement in the quickly darkening sky. But nothing happens for a few minutes and she finally relaxes, wrapping her arms around herself to fight off the chill of the night as a fog rolls in. Well, they sure do know how to up the creep factor in this place. She shudders at either the creepiness of it all or the cold, hard to say.

Her eyelids start growing heavy once more and no matter how much she fights it, she knows sleep is going to win over soon enough…

_Thud!_

Petrina groans in pain as she slowly pushes herself up from the ground, her brain slow to process what is happening. She rubs her eyes as she looks around, trying to figure out how she wound up on the ground…and realizes she must have dozed off and fell out. "So smooth," Petrina mutters to herself as she picks up her bag and puts it back on her shoulder. She glances around as she stands up, getting ready to climb back up into her tree.

Movement catches her eye and she pauses, one foot already on a low hanging branch. She squints as she stares through the fog, and she has never been one for faith, but in that moment, she is certainly praying it's a tribute and not a mutt.

Her prayer was half right: it is a tribute. Just a tribute getting chased by a mutt.

The scream of the tribute reaches her then, followed closely by the gurgled cry from the mutt and Petrina starts scrambling back up into the tree. The tribute has seen her and makes their way over to her, clearly trying to use her hiding place or have the mutt attack her instead. "Help me!" the boy yells up at her as he reaches the tree, reaching his hands up to her.

Petrina stops climbing to look down at him for a moment, before seeing the mutt about 10 yards away from them. A…horrible decaying thing and soon the smell reaches her, nearly making her vomit all over the boy below her. She reaches down and takes his hand, helping him start climbing up into the tree as the mutt gets closer, not thinking about helping him get away from the mutt. But she just catches the flash of the knife before he reaches up and slices her arm. She cries out in pain, barely holding onto the tree and she starts kicking at the boy below her, screaming in anger at him. "Bastard! I tried to help you! Get the fuck outta my tree!"

"No!" The boy yells back at her as the mutt reaches the tree and its arm grabs onto his foot. "Please, no, don't let it kill me!"

Petrina nearly forgives him for attacking her, especially when the mutt bites into his ankle and he shrieks in agony as it rips flesh away. But her wrist throbs in pain as blood drips down from the wound _he_ caused and she makes up her mind. "Go to hell, asshole," Petrina tells him as she stomps down on his fingers on the branch, making him scream and release it immediately.

The boy falls to the ground and the mutt is on him in an instant and no amount of slashing with his knife can get it to stop. It tears into his throat, cutting off his screams with a gurgle of blood. Petrina can only watch in horror at what she did to this boy, the fate she let him have…

_Boom._

The mutt stops attacking at the sound of the cannon and backs away from the boy, staring up into the tree at Petrina as she covers her mouth, barely holding back the contents of her stomach from all the blood in the air. It slowly starts to wander away from her and Petrina very soon vomits, turning away to not vomit on the boy she just inadvertently killed. "Oh God, what did I just do?" she whispers as she wipes her mouth with a shaking hand.

She just…got a boy killed. His face still stares up at her, twisted in shock and horror over what happened to him. She has to get away from him. She jumps down from the tree, landing on shaky legs, and takes off running in the opposite direction the mutt went. As she runs, tears of horror stream down her cheeks.

How could she have so easily killed someone? And…the worst part is…she knows she could do it again. She'll _have_ to do it again…

* * *

**Well, there's Petrina Bevell, Victor of the 93rd Hunger Games. I got nothing else to really say here. Updates will keep coming with this through the 100th Games and get us to the end of November, and then we'll see from there. **

**Next up: someone who made a terrible decision (they're new).**


	19. The 94th Hunger Games: Eos Talene

**Chapter 19:**

_Eos Talene, District Five, Age 17_

_Victor of the 94__th__ Hunger Games_

Eos has done a lot of dumbass things over the course of their life and numerous people have told them that. They always brushed them off and told them it was fine, they had it under control. But apparently, all it took for them to finally realize maybe they had fucked up was to be chased through absolutely foul smelling sewers, up to their waist in stuff they really didn't want to think twice about, and getting chased by some awful mutts they want to think about even _less_.

Why the _fuck_ did they think it was ever a good idea to volunteer in the place of their boyfriend?! No dick was worth this hell. Maybe they truly are a dumbass for falling for Carson's sweet words and pleas for help. They bet he's back home in Five, safe and warm in the arms of some other lover. They had always denied the claims from their friends that Carson was cheating on them and manipulating them but…they're starting to think there might have been some truth to that now.

That bastard straight up manipulated Eos into volunteering into the Hunger Games for him. _And the award for biggest dumbass goes to Eos Talene_…

"I swear if I get out of here, I'm ripping off his dick," Eos grumbles to themself as they reach a ladder and pull themself out of the sewage water – so much easier to just block out the smell and think of it as just water – shuddering when a cool breeze hits them and a chill goes through them. Seriously, why the hell did they think this was a good idea?!

They're going to win these Games fueled on pure spite towards Carson. And when they get back to Five, they're gonna flip him off as they walk into their fancy new house. They'll live out their life happily away from him and they can talk shit about their ex with Cas. Surely Five's only victor will enjoy that.

Eos leans against the wall, cringing at the layer of grime on it but just embracing the fact that they aren't going to be clean until they are out of this arena. Why did the Head Gamemaker think a _sewer_ would be a good arena?! Surely it's not entertaining watching the tributes wade through literal shit water. Yet they still found themself desperately wiping their hands off on their clothes, trying to feel clean. God, they hate this hell. "Uggghhh what does a person need to do for a damn shower?"

They stop their complaining and shut up immediately when they hear scuffling echoing off the walls of the tunnel, impossible to tell just how close it is – or if it's coming from a tribute or a mutt. They squint up and down the tunnel, trying to catch sight of what's coming their way. They tremble in fear, knowing they had lost the one knife they had gotten from the bloodbath from that bitch District partner of theirs who ran off in the night with their supplies – well, who knows if it was actually night, hard to tell in perpetual darkness. They have nothing to defend themself and for all their talk…they know what odds they really have.

Somehow, they don't think they'll win on pure spite alone and need to figure out some sort of weapon.

Before Eos has much time to think about it, someone tackles him to the ground. "Fuck!" they shout as they start scuffling with some girl and a knife starts to cut their neck. They push her away before she can make the cut deep enough to do real damage and shove her towards the wall, hearing a loud crack from her head slamming into the wall. She groans in pain as she gets back up, stumbling to her feet, and Eos acts before giving her time to reach for the knife she dropped.

Eos grabs the girl and shoves her to the ground, kneeling on her back to pin her down before dunking her head over the ledge and into the filthy sewer water. She fights back against them, scratching at their arms and they put their full weight on her as she struggles to get her head above water for air. "Die already!" Eos screams at her as their arms sting from the scratches and her efforts get more frantic before starting to slow. They don't let up on holding her head below water until they finally hear the cannon sound and even then, they move their fingers to her neck and feel for any pulse. Only once they know for sure she's dead do they sit back and look at just what they did.

Damn, that's…a real shitty way to die. They snort at their accidental pun and shake their head as laughter builds up in them, thinking they're starting to lose it from being down in here for too long. They just killed a girl by drowning her in literal shit water and they're laughing about it!

They pull the bag off her shoulders as their arms and neck sting even more from the scratches and they hope she had some first aid in her bag. If they don't get themself cleaned, they won't make it out of this arena before they get infected. They take the knife from the ground before kicking her body into the water, watching it slowly float down away from them. They wait for some sort of guilt or something to set in, but they don't feel any of that. They just feel…annoyed by this situation.

Is something wrong with them? Maybe. But do they care when they now have a way to get home even faster? Hell no.

_Carson, you better watch out for me when I get back to Five._

* * *

**Another week, another victor! We have Eos Talene, victor of the 94th Hunger Games! I love me a sassy spiteful victor that has made some dumb choices.**

**Not much else to say. We're getting further along with the updates I have stockpiled in this and have another six to go through. See you next week (maybe) with a very well known victor across my verse.**


	20. The 95th Hunger Games: Fonio Donnan

**Chapter 20:**

_Fonio Donnan, District Nine, 16_

_Victor of the 95__th__ Hunger Games_

Weren't the games supposed to be _difficult_? So far, Fonio has been living so comfortably in the arena. He had plenty of food, a nice shelter, and water. He even has a nice and warm sleeping bag! And it's all thanks to sponsors. Fonio didn't even need to do anything to get their money. He just showed up in the Capitol, flirted a little with the host and the crowd, and then they started throwing their money at him. Honestly, Fonio has been having a great time so far and is living more comfortably here than he was back home in District Nine.

_Man, it pays to be attractive._

And once he gets the victor title – since the Capitol clearly loves him now and wants him to win, the Gamemakers will have to let him win – Fonio will start living even more comfortably.

Fonio picks up an apple from his food stash as he props up his feet on the wood log he situated outside his shelter, just for this reason. He stares out at the forest, feeling content at the quiet sounds of the forest that is just completely different from life back home. Perhaps once he's victor they'll ask him to model in the Capitol. It's not completely unheard of and Fonio is definitely attractive enough for it. Maybe he can model some designer suits. Or maybe even some underwear ads. He might have to work out a bit more but he would not mind seeing his attractive body on one of those large billboards in the Capitol.

He nods his head at this as he takes another loud bite of his apple. Yes, he's going to have a great life once he's out of the arena. All he has to do is outlive the other thirteen tributes remaining. Really, it's going to be easy.

Fonio tosses the apple core out of the shelter before leaning back, crossing his arms to make a rest for his head. He stares up at the top of his tent that blocks the sun from reaching him through the trees. Seriously, this is so peaceful and he's glad that no one wanted to be his ally. They all thought he was too 'conceited' or something. Well the joke is on them now because he has it great and they're probably struggling to survive or dead. Hopefully dead. That would make things easier for him in the long run.

It's so peaceful in the forest that it's easy for Fonio to start dozing off.

_Snap!_

The sound makes Fonio's eyes open wide and as his eyes adjust to the light, he leans up on his arms and squints to look out in the forest. But his eyes open wide once more when he sees his District partner standing there, knife in her hand as she glares down at him. And Einka sure looks more pissed off at him than she ever did during their time in the Capitol. "Oh fuck," Fonio mutters and tries to reach for where he thinks he put his small knife just as Einka tackles him.

Fonio tries to shove the girl off of him and starts scrambling towards the front of the tent, trying to get out of the tight enclosed space. But Einka grabs onto the back of his jacket, yanking him back towards her. She uses her weight once more to try holding him in place and Fonio throws his elbow back at her.

It connects and he hears her grunt in pain before Fonio feels a sharp burning feeling on his arm. "Fuck," he cries out as he tries to roll over off of his stomach so he can try to fight against her better. Once he's on his back, he throws out a hand and grabs Einka's wrist as she gets ready to stab it down at him. They pause for a moment and Fonio chuckles a little at the girl straddling him, "You know, there's a lot of people who are probably really jealous of you right now."

"Fonio, you're such a fucking ass," Einka responds harshly to him before grabbing another knife with her free hand, immediately cutting off Fonio's laughter. She makes a thin cut on his neck before he can knock her hand away, barely saving his life. Einka lets out a cry of anger as her knife goes flying away from her before using her free hand to try pushing the one knife she still holds closer to Fonio's chest.

As she starts getting closer to stabbing him, he uses both hands to try to block her, straining against her surprising strength. They struggle against each other for a few seconds as Fonio desperately tries to think through a way out of this that doesn't end in his death. There's no way he can try to grab one of the discarded knives.

Einka leans forward, trying to throw her weight into pushing the knife down, giving Fonio the opportunity he needs. He slams his head forward into hers and they both groan at the immense pain that it causes. _How do people do that all the time?_ Fonio shakes his head to not focus on the pain and in Einka's distraction, quickly grabs the knife from her hands and slashes out.

Einka starts gasping as she brings her hands up to her neck, not doing much to block the steady stream of blood that is spraying on Fonio's face. In a matter of seconds, she collapses onto him, her blood soaking into his clothes. Fonio can feel himself growing sick at the feeling of her warm, slick blood coating him.

_Boom._

Fonio lets out a shaky breath before giving Einka's body a good shove, throwing her off of him. "Fuck," he lets out quietly as he shakily sits up, glancing down to see himself and most of his sleeping stuff covered in his District partner's blood. He feels a burning feeling in his chest and brings a hand up, feeling a ripped opening in his shirt and some of his own blood slowly pouring out onto his fingers. When did that happen?

He tries to get to his feet but falls to his knees, too shaky about what just happened. He just came so close to dying. With heavily shaking hands, he grabs one of Einka's arms and starts slowly dragging her out of the tent, still on his knees.

Fonio makes it a few feet out of his shelter with her body before he hears a familiar beeping sound. When he glances up at the sky and sees a small silver parachute floating down towards him, he lets out a sigh of relief. He drops Einka's arm so he can catch the sponsor gift and rips into it, finding a small amount of bandages inside.

Well, the sponsors haven't given up on him yet.

* * *

**And there we have Fonio Donnan, victor of the 95th Hunger Games! Anyone who's read my other stories knows all about Fonio and I love my conceited man whore victor lol. **

**That's all I gotta say, see you probably next week with the 96th victor!**


End file.
